Inevitable
by StoryNeverTold
Summary: 15 year old Ste Hay has a hard childhood as he enters his penultimate year at High School - his mother is an alcoholic and he is failing in every subject. That is until Brendan Brady, who is facing troubles of his own, gets a job at Hollyoaks High and their lives become irreversibly intertwined. M for later chapters.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: Ste is 14, nearly 15 in this fanfiction – year 10 – and Brendan is 26. His children are younger too. I know this **_**has **_**been done before but I haven't read it (I don't read much fanfiction) and I've had this drafted and planned for about a year now ;) I used to be BeccaBrady but I changed it because I wanted to reinvent myself as a writer.**

**This chapter is short in comparison to the lengths that I'm aiming for the others to be. Enjoy. **

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Monday, September 3rd. Approximately 7:30am. He was on time. Just.

He checked himself. Jacket? Check. Coat? Check. Gloves? Check. Scarf? Check. Briefcase? Check. Car keys? Check. He was ready.

Brendan took one last look in the mirror and smoothed down his moustache, clearing his throat. He brushed his fingers through his hair and inspected his reflection, fixing any loose hairs that escaped his neatly styled black hair. The hallway he was stood in was wide and far too neat for his liking but considering he wasn't the one who kept on top of it, he didn't really mind. The golden framed mirror hung neatly, perfectly, on the cream wallpaper and the laminated wood flooring was smooth beneath his shoes. He took a step away from the mirror and went to pick up his briefcase from the small desk in the hallway that held a few photos and a small decorative plant. He nodded to himself, reassuring himself for his big day and took a deep breath. As he inhaled, the familiar voice snapped from the kitchen behind him, exasperation clear in their voice.

"For God's sake, Deccy, will you put that down?" Her voice was sharp, tired. "Wait, Paddy, can ye just…"

Before her sentence was even finished, Brendan glanced down at the little four year old boy running in and out of the older man's legs, making airplane noises as he did so. Brendan laughed and bent down, picking the boy up. The little boy made no attempt to wriggle out of his grasp; he seemed happy and comfortable in his father's arms.

"Are ye misbehaving for yer Ma, eh, Paddy?" He smiled and Padraig pouted, shaking his head, trying hard to look innocent but the mischief shone in his brown eyes. "Are ye being naughty…?"

Padraig laughed and hid his face in the crook of Brendan's neck, sniffling, just as Eileen exited from the kitchen, leaning in the doorway, looking tired. He glanced at her and smiled, receiving a weak smile back. She looked exhausted, clad in her turquoise pyjamas still, her face free of make-up and her hair un-styled and pushed back.

"Declan's got it into his head that he's some six year old master chef, trying to make his own bloody breakfast and he's spilling everything everywhere and Paddy won't put his goddamn shoes on and yer heading to work and I know it's yer first day but I'm meeting Sylvia about the job at the salon and I've still gotta do the school run and I just…" She trailed off, her frustration getting the better of her. She reached a shaky hand up and pushed back her loosely tied brown hair and shook her head.

He chuckled slightly and put Padraig back down on the floor, watching as he ran up the stairs, shouting random things to himself, making the airplane noises again as he went. He smiled fondly to himself; the kids were his life and soul. They kept him going. He'd been married to Eileen now for 6 years and although he never completely felt at home with his wife – for reasons he didn't want to think about – he was more than happy with his children. In all honesty, they were the reason he stuck around. He only took the job because he wanted to provide for his children and wanted to make sure they had a good life and a good education. He loved his wee boys and he'd go to hell and back if it meant making them happy.

Eileen, however, was a different story. He loved her, he guessed, but their relationship had always been hanging on by threads. He was always so busy, first with university and now his new job had crept up on him. It meant that, according to her, he had lost his romantic touch. He never found time to do things with her – he never took her to dinner anymore or swept her off her feet. But now that they'd been married for so many years, in all honesty, Brendan didn't have the effort to try. Not to mention, when she was always stressed and fretting over things that, in his eyes, were completely and utterly pointless, he didn't have much of a desire _to _do anything romantic with her. She was in one of those moods again. You know, the moods that women always seem to get in. The _'I have so much to do today with work and friends and the kids and oh I don't have the time and you're not helping at all' _mood. Because it wasn't like it was his first day at work today and he needed to actually think about himself for once. But she was his wife, and he… loved her. It was his job to sort her out, right? He walked up to his wife and cupped her cheek.

"Don't worry about it… Calm yourself, Eileen…" He leaned in and kissed her softly before pulling back, smiling. "Now shut up and wish me luck."

She smiled softly. "Good luck, darling…"

He smiled back and grabbed his briefcase, before heading out of the door, his breath streaking across the air in front of him as he clambered into the driving seat of his Mercedes. September was too fucking cold in England, he thought, as he started his windscreen wipers, brushing the fine drizzle away from the glass.

The car slid effortlessly out of the driveway, it's silver body shining in the morning drizzle and fog as it slunk down the road and away from the quiet cul-de-sac where his semi-detached house stood proudly. Brendan yawned slightly and gazed, bored, out of the front window of his car. The weather was damp and miserable – just as he had expected but it was not helping to motivate him at all. Today was a big day for Brendan and safe to say, he was not really looking forward to it. The boring protocol of introducing himself to every new class and evaluating all his students in the first 20 minutes of each lesson. He had to learn the way the school worked, the way the students behaved and it was up to him to singlehandedly separate the no marks from the potential doctors and lawyers. All in one day.

He couldn't really remember, but he had heard that the woman he was taking over from had gone a bit doolally and therefore the job had fallen in his hands. So, the silver lining was, he didn't have very big shoes to fill. It was all still very daunting though but at least he had people to fall back on who he could familiarise himself with. Though he wasn't sure if that was a good thing or not.

He turned onto the main road and shook his head at how he was overthinking things and decided to relax. So with that, he flicked the radio on, tapping the steering wheel rhythmically to the tune of _God's Gonna Cut You Down. _He was always a huge Johnny Cash fan and it was always the best tool when it came to calming himself down and getting himself into a zone where he felt prepared to take on anything. Even swarms of hormone riddled, spot covered idiots.

-OXO-

Ste blinked at his blurry reflection as he slowly dragged the toothbrush across his teeth, hardly aware of his actions. He was so tired and not in the mood at all. After six whole weeks of freedom (if such a thing existed in Ste's home), school felt like another universe. He spat the toothpaste into the chipped sink and rinsed, looking up at his reflection again. He yawned and ran a hand through his hair, messing it up more than it already was. He dragged his feet across the tattered carpet that paved the hall to his bedroom and shoved his feet into his scuffed black trainers that poked out from beneath his grey trousers. He loosely fastened his tie around his neck and slung his rucksack over his shoulders, sniffing a bit. What was the point in getting up this early? Seriously? He wasn't going to learn anything anyway. Never did.

He trudged downstairs and into the smoky kitchen where Pauline – his mother – was sat, head leaning on the palm of her hand, an empty glass of water and a box of painkillers on the table in front of her. He went to the cupboard and swung it open, pulling out a packet of crisps and shoving a handful into his mouth. That would do for breakfast. He glanced at Pauline. Something in the house dripped monotonously and the chill of the outdoors somehow leaked in, biting his skin under his clothes ever so gently.

"Hangover?" He crunched, looking at her.

"Me head's killing me." She groaned. "Fill me water up for me, will ya, Ste?"

"I'll be late for school." He replied, with no intention of moving, not even to go to school. He appeared in no hurry and continued crunching loudly on the cheese and onion crisps, crossing his legs over as he leaned on the counter.

"Fuck off, you're not exactly in a rush. Just do it." She snapped slightly and he picked the glass up, filling it at the sink that was filled with dirty plates and bowls from weeks ago, before slamming it down on the table. "Do you have to be so fucking loud?!"

"Sorry…" He shrugged unapologetically, tipping the crumbs left in the packet into his mouth, not bothering to care when most of them missed his mouth and scattered across his 'white' (though it was more grey considering it had been worn so much) school shirt. "You said you'd go to the Job Centre today."

"Do I look fucking fit to go to the Job Centre?! I feel like I've got a fucking brain tumour." She shot him a dark look. The bags under her eyes were obvious and heavy and her face was creased with wrinkles that she was too young to have. Her greased hair was pulled back and tied up, though strands of it escaped here and there, as if she had been living on the streets for months.

"You said." He repeated, sighing to himself, scrunching the packet up and throwing it on the side.

He folded his arms and watched her. She was always like this. Never did anything, never stayed true to her word. In fact, Ste nearly laughed there and then. Not at her, but at himself. For believing her and actually giving her another chance. The crazy thing was, when she said she was going to go to the job centre, he actually felt a little hopeful, for once he actually thought that things were going to get better. He thought, for once, that they wouldn't be scrounging around for money and making cuts that weren't really possible. Living on benefits was something that Ste was sick of and the worst part was that any money they did have never went to refurbishing their decrepit house or stocking their practically bare cupboards. It was always spent on things that were far less important to Ste. The same couldn't be said for his mother, though.

"I know what I said!" She shook her head. "Terry's gonna look for a job tomorrow anyway."

"Terry's always looking for a job." Ste folded his arms and scuffed his trainers against the floor softly. "Thought he were gonna fix the heating tomorrow anyway? It's freezing…"

"All you do is fucking complain, Steven Hay!" She glared. "Get to school before Terry comes home. You know if he…"

"I know." Ste cut her off. He didn't need to hear anymore. He pushed himself off the counter and walked out of the damp council flat, slamming the door behind him, shivering as the cold hit him.

His mother was a lowlife and downright wasted her life away. She was a pure disappointment and had never really managed to make Ste proud to call her his mother. But then there was Terry, his stepfather, and he was a completely different story. He wasn't just someone who leeched off benefits and lay about all day. He wasn't a 'nice' person, so to speak. Ste knew that Terry was one of the main reasons why his mother was the way she was but she would never get shot of him in a million years, no matter how many times she had promised him when he was a little boy.

He shivered and pulled his burgundy blazer tightly around him to protect himself from the chill drizzle and the frosty air. He pulled out his cheap mp3 player (that he used to insist was just the beginning of his technological collection to his 'friends' when in fact he only had a second hand mobile phone that Pauline had forced him to have in case she needed him to come home when Terry was going off on one) and plunged the headphones into his ears, drowning out the irritating sound of cars and morning chatter with some dubstep blaring into his ears. One of his best friends was a Cheryl Cole fan and the other was a Kylie fan and he had to admit, they were some good tunes but he wouldn't be caught dead with those on his mp3 player. Terry would have him for breakfast if he found out.

He saw the looming figure of the high school above him and he fell into its shadow, sighing to himself as he heard the school bell, realising that no matter how much he rushed, he was going to be late to his form anyway. Not like it mattered to him. School was just a formality and if he had any choice in the matter he'd rather give it up and do nothing with his time. Then again, the one thing he could say was that school was… an escape, if you like. It meant he could get away from his parents, even if it was only for a few hours but nevertheless it was something, right?

With that he slunk to his locker and swung his bag into it, deciding it wasn't really that necessary for the rest of his lessons anyway and slammed it shut, his trainers scuffing against the worn light blue vinyl flooring. He was really _really _not in the mood for double maths and then geography. Really.

-OXO-

Brendan's first day at Hollyoaks High School was going surprisingly well. So far he'd had to control an excitable group of Year 8's, which was an easy job, and then soothe a class of petrified Year 7's who were as new to this school as Brendan was. Though Brendan knew from what he'd been told and what his school days were like that the first day of the school year was an illusion. Everyone was settling back into routine and classes were usually fairly laid back. Besides, it was the older years you always had to watch out for and Brendan wasn't exactly looking forward to it. Hollyoaks High was kind of a 'every student is welcome' school, meaning there were a fair few bad apples among the school, something which didn't exactly have Brendan jumping for joy.

It was break time and, as embarrassing as it was, he'd spent it hiding away in his room as opposed to going down to the staff room. He wasn't ready for the meeting and greeting, the monotonous and fake introductions and politeness. He wasn't really looking forward to meeting all the other teachers as he was sure they were all going to be a set of self-absorbed, well educated, smartly dressed pricks. Of course, on the surface, Brendan came across as very similar. He had a strong set of High School qualifications, 3 good a-levels and a prestigious degree in Geography to his name but it counted for nothing in sense of personality. Sure, he even spent his days when he wasn't at work clad in an expensive suit but he always liked to think of himself as very laid back. He wasn't much of a fan of education and it wasn't something he held as a badge of honour like everyone else. It was just something he went off and did to get by. So he didn't end up putting cardboard boxes together or standing, brain-dead, in the dole queue. Not to mention he had kids he had to do proud and a very expectant family to please.

If he had his way, teaching wouldn't be his career path at all. As a child, he'd wanted to jet off across the world, exploring and travelling as a great pilot or maybe even stand behind a bar in a local boozer and be the pillar of the community, watching different sorts of people come and go, listening in to them gossiping about their lives or complaining about their bitchy wives. He got to see new people; day in day out with the exception of a few regulars longing for some kind of relief from their home life that Brendan would feel obliged to be able to grant them. Instead, he had ended up here, lecturing children about the formation of rivers and the causes of volcanoes. It was boring and it was laughable. But it was money, so he couldn't exactly complain.

Next period he'd have to deal with the Year 10 class who were just starting their GCSE course, a task Brendan was sure he was going to find ever so slightly challenging. Then again, he was the teacher and they could think again if they thought they could outsmart him like they had the woman who had his job beforehand. Rumour had it that she'd had a minor breakdown inside the school after a bunch of Year 11's started throwing food at her. At least that's what the receptionist told him. That was the beauty of knowing the receptionist like he did, he got all the inside gossip. Then again, it was his connections within the school that got him the job anyway, not like he was particularly looking forward to the student's reactions when they finally put two and two together.

He leaned back in his chair and swung his feet up on the desk, enjoying the last 5 minute silence of his break before the bell rang and the Year 10 students came pouring into his class, chattering away.

They whispered in hushed voices as they saw Brendan sat behind the desk, evaluating their new teacher as they walked in. They all arranged themselves in seats just as Brendan got to his feet. He cleared his throat and surveyed the sea of spotty, lifeless faces in front of him and sighed. Joys. They looked as if they were studying him just as much as he was them though.

"Okay, class… I'm your teacher from now on since your last teacher is now somewhat…incapable." He drawled slowly, pausing slightly. There was a wave of chatter as the students gossiped slightly but Brendan silenced them with a tiny slam of a whiteboard pen on his desk. He couldn't be arsed to sit and listen to meaningless teenage rumours.

"My name is…" He scribbled on the whiteboard. "Mr. Brady."

"Brady?" One of the students called out. "Anything to do with the headteacher, Sir?"

"I think that's irrelevant, don't ye?" He replied coldly. Not today, please. "So, class, I'll be–"

He was cut off by the click of the classroom door and a young boy walked in, tie hanging loose, shirt un-tucked and a pair of black scuffed trainers on his feet. He went to walk through the classroom but Brendan stopped him in his tracks by placing two fingers on his chest. He needed to make an impression whilst he could.

"You're late." He told the boy, not even looking at him.

"I know…"

No apology? He glanced at the student. His skin was slightly golden and his brown hair was messy. A good looking lad compared to the acne riddled faces in front of him. He seemed bored and uninterested by Brendan's attempt to scold him and glanced away from Brendan's gaze, sighing heavily. He was clearly used to this…

"What's your name?" He asked him, evaluating the boy. He was one of those little shits that was going to cause him trouble, he could tell.

"Ste." The boy replied bluntly.

"Okay, Steven…" He nodded slightly. "Sort your uniform out and sit down. You can come and see me at lunchtime and make up for the time you missed."

"Oh, come on, mate…" Steven started. "And it's Ste…"

"I'm not your mate. I'm Mr. Brady, as in your teacher. I'm sure you can manage. Or just 'Sir' will do if you can't manage more than one syllable."

There was a slight ripple of laughter in the class. It wasn't warm, it wasn't friendly… it was mocking. They were mocking this… boy. Steven flushed ever so slightly but managed to compose himself. He gave Brendan an irritated look and then slunk to his seat next to a petite pretty blonde girl, smartening his uniform as he did so.

"Good boy." Brendan watched him. If this boy was going to cause him trouble, then so be it. He could handle it. The challenge could be fun.

-OXO-

**Hope you liked Chapter 1. **

**There is a lot more to follow :) **


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2.**

Ste sighed and glanced down at the piece of lined paper in front of him, scribbling mindless doodles on it as he leaned his cheek on his hand. Geography was probably the worst lesson he had ever experienced but the school had thrown him into the GCSE course in an attempt to get him some good grades or to help with his English. At least, that's what they said but he had a feeling it was because Geography was torture and the school didn't like him. He thought, when he had heard that the other boring bitch had been fired and a new, young man was taking her place, he thought that maybe he would be able to work his way around him and get away with messing around with Amy (not like Amy would really be up for it, she was a bit of a geek). But he was wrong. First Geography lesson of the year and he'd already got himself a detention and a reputation from the teacher. Great.

This new teacher, Mr. Brady, apparently, was talking at the front of the class in some thick Irish accent but Ste wasn't listening to a word of it. It wasn't going to help him anyway. He coloured absentmindedly with his pen and then slowed down, noticing how the sound of the pen scribbling on the paper was loud in comparison to the classroom. He could do without more shit off the new guy. The classroom was filled with the noises of coughing or sniffling and fidgeting but apart from that Mr. Brady's stupid voice was the only thing Ste could hear. He leant on his hand and zoned out, trying not to think about how the rent was due today and therefore Terry would be in a proper bad mood. The sound of his voice became a monotonous blur and none of the words made any sense to him. He lost himself in thought, thinking about if he would be able to blag a sandwich out of Amy or Doug at lunchtime after he got away from this classroom so he didn't have to ask Pauline for food as soon as he got home. He could hold her off then. But it wasn't really her that Ste was worried about; she'd only drunkenly shout at him. Terry's idea of punishment was a different story. He sighed to himself and swallowed, trying to distract himself by turning to Amy next to him.

"Hey, Ames…" he whispered. "Is it just me or does the moustache make him look like some YMCA reject…"

He giggled but was met by nothing from Amy but a concerned look. He blinked. The classroom was silent, even Mr. Brady had stopped talking. Ste cleared his throat and looked up, only to see Mr. Brady staring right at him, expectantly. He tried to look casual, sitting back in his chair, stretching his legs out and folding his arms. He knew that he hadn't gotten away with it but it was always worth a try.

"Well?!" Mr. Brady asked, waiting for some answer. Ste didn't have a clue what he was asking. Fuck him.

"Um…could ya repeat the question or something?"

"I was asking you about features of the river, Steven. Name some." Brady stood up from his office chair and leant on his desk, palms flat down, staring right at Ste.

He looked set to pounce on him like he was looking for some excuse to give him another detention or throw him outside the head's office for yet another lunch time. He'd seen teachers look at him like this before. He was used to it. Only, this time – and Ste couldn't really work out why – he felt uncomfortable. Felt awkward under Brady's steady gaze. He realised he was just staring blankly at his teacher and begrudgingly decided it was time to answer the question. The question that he didn't even know the answer too. He wasn't really sure what the word 'features' even meant. He was clueless but he wasn't going to let the class see that and brand him as braindead like Terry thought he was. _"You're a fucking idiot, Ste, and the only place you're gonna end up is the dole queue or behind bars panicking when you drop the soap. They'll eat you alive in a place like that." _Terry's words rang in his head and he felt himself flush, his eyes stinging ever so slightly with tears that Ste would rather die than let form. He wasn't gonna be the idiot.

With that, he sat back, almost triumphantly in his chair and decided that just because he didn't know the answer, he wasn't going to be at the mercy of Brady. He shrugged to himself and decided on an answer that wouldn't reveal his cluelessness and would also make him look just a little bit clever.

"Water." He shrugged, unwavering. There was a slight ripple of laughter in the class as people took to the joke. Brady, however, didn't. Though the best part was that Ste wasn't wrong. Water is part of a river so surely he can't be wrong? Brady's eyes flared slightly and Ste swallowed. Brady was giving him one of those looks like he was set to make Ste's life hell. It was different from the other teachers. They were just bored and used to dealing with students like Ste. But Brady… Brady had this look like he was passionate about making Ste suffer. And Ste was up for the challenge.

"Do ye think your clever, Steven?" Brady snapped, his eyes fixed right on Ste's.

"I'm just stating the, uhh…" He searched for the right word. "obvious…"

Brendan drummed his fingers on his desk and licked his bottom lip, nodding a bit. Ste sighed. He wasn't really in the mood to have a mini argument in front of the whole class but backing down against Brady wasn't really an option. He had to make an impression with the new guy, especially since he seemed to be a bit of a prick. Under the table, he felt Amy's hand on his knee, squeezing him like an attempt to show him that he was being stupid. But he wasn't in the mood to listen to her.

"And the obvious… is gonna get ye your grade, is it?" Brady asked sternly. It was a rhetorical question but Ste decided to answer anyway.

"I'm not really bothered about me grade…" He shrugged. "Didn't wanna be thrown in this stupid class anyway." Brady's glare was ice cold. He was fucked. Royally. But maybe it would be fun to see how many geography teachers the school could drive out.

"Not many of us do want to be here, Steven, but let's make this process as painless as humanly possible, shall we? In fact, I'll extend your lunchtime detention and we can go over the things you don't like. See if we can't change your mind, eh?" The rage and annoyance was laced through Brady's voice despite his helpful words and Ste groaned to himself. Great. More time spent with the Irish version of the village people.

"Can't wait, Sir." Ste replied sarcastically, rolling his eyes and painting on a mocking grin. Brady returned it and nodded.

"Me neither." He turned back to the class and continued droning on about something pointless while Ste mentally cursed himself for pushing his luck and ending up missing more of his lunchtime.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Amy looking at him, disapprovingly. Amy was his best friend, he guessed. She was a skinny little thing with poker straight blonde hair but her appearance was deceptive as she was one of the feistiest people that Ste knew when she got her mind set on something. They'd known each other since primary school and had been friends ever since Ste dropped the sweets that he had spent the only pocket money he had on and she'd given him her own. It was a tiny gesture but for the shy 6 year old boy that he was, it was monumental. They'd had their highs and lows since she was a decent girl from a little cul-de-sac and Ste was a scally from the council estate but they stuck together despite her dad's disapproval. They'd dated in their lower years of high school and it had sabotaged their friendship for a few months when they broke up but he'd tried his hardest to get her back since she was the only friend that he really had.

That was until last year when one of the new kids was thrown into their maths class. He'd moved over from the states and since everyone had already found little groups to hang out in, the new guy was all alone. He'd been put next to Ste in class and used to whisper all the answers to him. It was a shallow way of making friends but after that they'd found that they had a lot in common and since then Amy and Ste's little two way bond had expanded to the three of them. Ste, Amy and Doug. They were a strange little group but they worked.

The rest of the lesson dragged on but he was lucky that Brady didn't pick on him again and just left him alone. Though it's not like he had anything to look forward to. It was lunchtime after this lesson but he was going to be spending most of it cooped up in Brady's office listening to all the teacher spiel he's going to get thrown at him. He wasn't in the mood, especially not for Brady. He paused and fleetingly wondered if he had anything to do with the headteacher. Then again, it was probably a coincidence. Whilst he trudged out of class, he prayed to himself that Brady would forget or wouldn't stay true to his word and he could escape but just as he got to the door he was stopped by a hand firm on his chest and then Brady was right next to him, looking right at him. Amy gave him a reassuring smile and walked out, leaving Ste alone with Mr. Brady.

-OXO-

Steven was a troublemaker, through and through, Brendan decided as he looked at the young boy sat on the desk in front of him. He had pulled Steven aside around 5 minutes ago but neither of them had spoken since then. He was evaluating him, working him out. In fact, Brendan wasn't sure that giving the boy a talking to would even be worth it but nevertheless, they were here and silence wasn't going to get either of them anywhere. He sighed. His first day wasn't going as bad as he thought it would, after all, it was his first serious teaching job but he wasn't going to let any of the students know that. Especially this Steven. He would eat him alive.

He studied this _boy _in front of him and let his mind wander for a second. He reminded him of someone. He couldn't work out whom at first but he knew that it was someone. Brendan sighed and drummed his fingers on his desk. In all honesty though, no amount of teacher training really prepared him for this. For the bad kids and the detentions… knowing what to say, what to do. Not like he ever really concentrated at teacher training, he had many other things on his mind back then. He had studied in Liverpool and smiled at the memory. The little coffee shop on campus with the blonde 18 year old boy behind the counter. Vincent. Not like he wanted to remember how that had turned out.

He blinked and realised that he'd let the silence stretch out further than he had intended and looked up at Steven who was picking his nails in boredom, clearly used to the scolding and detentions. Brendan stood up and placed his hands on the desk, looking down at Steven. He saw the young boy shift and look up at him, exhaling.

"Steven. Go get yourself a text book and sit next to me. I'll show you the topic." He decided that shouting would just go in one ear and out the other. Steven rolled his eyes and got out of his seat, grabbing the thick textbook and threw it down on the desk, dragging his chair around to Brendan's side.

"Right." Steven sighed and slouched back, uninterested. Brendan flicked the textbook open and found a page that ran through the topic they were about to start. He knew that Steven's mind wouldn't be changed by a simple textbook but it was worth a try and it would surely punish Steven enough to keep his ears open in Brendan's class.

"Read this." He instructed and saw a flash of worry in the younger boy's face. Steven sat forward and tentatively looked at the textbook, scanning the pages, taking it in. He saw the vacant look on his face; he wasn't even taking it in. Brendan doubted that he was even reading it. He watched him and waited until Steven triumphantly looked up as if he had finished.

"There. Can I go now?"

Brendan raised his eyebrows. "No. You can answer the question that I asked you in class now that you've read the textbook…"

Steven's face fell and he shifted, playing with his hands. He flushed and looked back down at the textbook, clearing his throat. "Um…it's… there's…"

See, the lad hadn't even read the goddamn textbook. Clever bastard. Brendan rolled his eyes and kept watching Steven, waiting. But the silence between them both dragged on and Steven looked less and less confident as it did so. Brendan frowned and studied the boy. He was playing with his hands and frantically searching the page. Brendan began to realise.

"The answer's there." Brendan pointed at a paragraph titled 'features of a river' that shone from the page like a sore thumb. The answer was right there in front of Steven but the boy hadn't found it.

"Yeah, I… um…" Steven's mind didn't seem eased and he stared at the paragraph helplessly. Then it hit Brendan. For once, the boy wasn't being a troublemaker. Brendan wasn't exactly sure how Steven had avoided this for his whole school life yet Brendan had realised in one fucking day. This school was worse than he thought.

"Steven…" Brendan hesitated, approaching softly. The worst thing was patronising the kid, making him feel like a full blown idiot. He had to find a way. He considered himself lucky that he had always been gifted when it came to school but then he cursed himself mentally for being one of those children who threw away his talent during his years at high school. This Steven would kill for a chance like that, he bet.

"What?" Steven sat back and tried to look strong, confident but the embarrassment was clear in his eyes. The boy was ashamed.

"Steven, close the textbook." Brendan told him. The boy obeyed. "Have you ever considered that ye might…"

Steven blushed and cut him off. "I'm not an idiot, right, sir. I know what you think but I'm not. I'm not some braindead idiot who…"

Brendan shook his head. "Never said you were." He wasn't going to get through to Steven like this, not today. Surely it would be better to take it slow. To try and ease Steven into it before offering him some kind of help and support. He was sure that he wouldn't have been the only teacher who noticed Steven's inability to read but maybe he was the only one who cared.

"You can go." Brendan sighed and decided he would deal with Steven a different day. Steven got up from the chair and shrugged his coat on, nodding a bit. Brendan stood up with him, evaluating the young boy. Sure, he was a troublemaker, but he wasn't totally idle. Who knows, maybe the boy wanted to try. But Brendan wasn't going to give up on his student even if he was a bit of a shit.

"If you turn up late to my lesson again, I'll keep you in for longer, okay?" Brendan scolded softly and Steven sighed, rolling his eyes in acknowledgement. "Oh, and Steven?"

Steven stopped by the doorway and looked back at Brendan, tiredly. "Yes, Sir?"

"Gimme a shout if you're struggling with something in class." Brendan tried his best to smile, to look like a friendly face even if he didn't particularly feel like being welcoming to the lad who had stirred things up in his first GCSE class.

Steven paused and kept his eyes on Brendan and he realised the boy was processing what he said, like he wasn't sure he heard him right. Like Brendan was the first teacher who had ever offered Steven anything. So that was the kind of school he was teaching in? He thought this school would know better, considering the… circumstances. Then he saw the boy nod and he flashed Brendan a grin that lit up his whole face. It was bright and it was cute. Didn't really suit a personality like Steven's. It was like butter wouldn't melt. That's probably how he got around other teachers. Then Steven was gone and the door closed behind him. It was then, and only then, that Brendan realised.

The face, the familiarly, the _smile. _Brendan realised who he reminded him of. Vincent. The coffee shop boy. Brendan laughed softly to himself. Typical.

-OXO-

Ste blinked as he stepped out into the icy rain, ignoring the way it dotted his blazer with darker points of burgundy, giving his blazer an almost polka dot effect until he was out in the rain for long enough for it to darken his whole blazer, reaching his skin, causing the goosebumps on his skin to prickle up. He shivered and ran through the courtyard, searching for the corridor that Doug and Amy would be hiding from the rain in. He thought back to his 'detention' as he hurried, going over it in his head. Brady had offered him help. Real help. Didn't just look at Ste like he was some nonce. He nearly flushed at the memory; he remembered trying to read the textbook and failing, Brady's eyes boring into him. It was a secret that he had carried with him for years, out of shame mainly. It wasn't that he was lazy – though he was – but more the fact that he _couldn't _do the work. The words on a page were always just a blur to him, the letters a huge jumble that made no sense. He knew he was an idiot but he wasn't going to let anyone else see that. But now Brady was realising and it embarrassed and irritated Ste.

He rounded the corner and saw Amy and Doug leaning on the lockers, chatting. Amy was restyling her wet hair, clips in her mouth while Doug was biting into one half of his sandwich. Ste smiled fondly at his friends in front of him. They were the only reason he really bothered coming to school. He walked over to them and delved his hand into Doug's lunchbox, stealing the other half of his ham and cheese sandwich, much to Doug's annoyance.

"Thanks, mate." Ste grinned and leant on the wall, taking a mammoth bite of Doug's sandwich that he'd now claimed as his own. Doug sighed and rolled his eyes, looking down at the empty space in his lunchbox. He knew that Doug didn't care, not really. Ste was always doing this and Doug wasn't exactly short of food whereas Ste never brought lunch into school. They couldn't afford it. Not like his mum would even bother making it if they had the stuff in the cupboard.

"Dude, my dad made that for me this morning!" He chastised softly, affection in his soft American accent.

"Alright, sorry, daddy's boy…" Ste smiled teasingly and scuffed his trainers against the vinyl flooring. "Had a dead weird detention today. A teacher actually smiled at me for once."

"Oh… my god…" Doug pretended to look horrified and dropped his sandwich into his lunchbox, going for the full melodramatic look. "What's the world coming to? We should call the police. Or the news… or maybe even MI5…"

Ste threw a bit of crust at Doug and sighed. "No, but Brady's a bit of a twat. He's the new teacher. Geography… he's got it in for me. Gave me a detention _twice _in one lesson."

"You were completely ignoring him though, Ste…" Amy cut in, clipping some of her hair back. "He doesn't seem that bad. Better than our last teacher anyway…"

All three of them laughed. They were those people who, no matter what, made Ste smile. All three of their personalities were different and they made a strange group of friends but they worked. Amy was the calm one, the logical one. Doug always made the joke that she was Hermione from Harry Potter and Ste had laughed along with it even though he'd never seen the film and didn't dare to attempt a book. Doug was the joker of them but he was also a bit… camp. He was a Kylie fan and had never once had a girlfriend or showed an interest in girls but Ste didn't really dare to ask if he was bent or not. Then again, Ste hadn't had a girlfriend for ages but he was into girls. They stayed and chatted for a bit before the bell rang and Ste had to face two fucking hours of home economics. Another lesson where he could get treated like an idiot. He couldn't wait.


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: I just want to take a moment to thank everyone who has reviewed, followed or even read this fanfiction. I'm very pleased with the response I've been getting ^.^ *hugs and cookies for all***

**Chapter 3**

Ste really wasn't looking forward to Home Economics. He had only picked it because it was better than listening to the teacher drone on in a language that he didn't understand and Amy and Doug were taking it too. At least that way he could mess about with them and didn't have to concentrate. Though he wasn't sure they'd really take to messing about in class the way he did. But it was worth a try. He didn't know a thing about Home Economics but he didn't really have any other choice. At least it wouldn't involve a lot of reading or writing. Ste was crap at that.

By the time lunchtime was over, Ste was tired and cranky. He wasn't in the mood for the rest of the day and he felt like he was done trying. It was the first day of the school year and yet the teachers weren't cutting him any slack at all. They were trying to work him to death, he was sure. Especially that Brady. Trying to make Ste answer a question that he didn't have a clue about. How was Ste supposed to learn by being made to look like an idiot?

He sighed and walked out of his form room, looking at Doug as they both exchanged a mutual 'I cannot be arsed' look and trudged down the stairs to his lesson. They talked about nothing except how little they wanted to proceed with the next 2 hours and how they just wanted to go home. He didn't know a thing about cooking, he realised as he approached the classroom. The most cooking he'd ever done was opening a can of soup and sticking it into the microwave. He didn't even know how to use an oven. Pauline never cooked and the only time he'd ever seen anyone do any of that fancy stuff was on TV with all those poncy chefs when he was flicking through channels. Cooking wasn't a skill he particularly needed either. He was happy living off takeaways all his life.

Not to mention that he knew in Home Economics you had buy and bring in your own ingredients and other pathetically inconvenient requirements like that and he knew that Pauline would laugh in his face if he ever suggested it to her and he knew that it was best not letting Terry know that he was doing something like this. He'd mock him forever about doing something so pathetic. So… _girly. _He exhaled shakily.

As the students filtered into the classroom and Doug moved forward to join Amy, Ste fell to the back of the line; his reluctance overpowering anything else. They took their seats near the front of the class, despite his pleas that they sit near the back, and Ste sat between Amy and Doug, slouching in his seat and yawning. He hoped that his teacher was one of those ones who only make an effort with the kids who actually wanted to do well and then he'd leave Ste well alone. It was on that thought that their teacher came into the room. He was in his late 30s or early 40s – Ste couldn't work it out – with short brown hair and a prominent scar on his forehead. He was carrying a briefcase and grinning brightly. He was going to be one of those 'good Samaritan' teachers, Ste could tell. God help them all.

"Alright boys and girls?" He smiled cheerily as he placed his briefcase down on the desk.

Ste felt a nauseous. He frowned back at the teacher, Mr. Hutchinson apparently, and nearly laughed. 'Boys and Girls'? was this guy for real? Ste couldn't help but think that there should be more teachers around like Brady even if Brady was a twat. He was one of those teachers who challenged Ste, who didn't put up with his shit and brought some kind of excitement to even the dullest of lessons. He liked the fact he could answer back and Brady would rise to it where this guy would probably act all polite and simply tell Ste that he wasn't contributing to the 'right working environment'.

"Alright, my name is Mr. Hutchinson…" he began, holding onto the broad smile. "I'm going to be your home economics teacher – that's a posh word for cooking – for the next 2 years and if you behave accordingly and treat me with the same respect as I'll treat you I'm sure we can make this fun…"

Ste raised his eyebrows and glanced sideways at Amy and Doug, hoping for some mutual look that would indicate they were laughing at Hutchinson as much as he was but they were both looking at him as he spoke, taking in his words. Ste was surprised that they didn't jump at the chance to mock him but then again they both had different opinions of what school life was anyway.

Ste didn't listen properly – he never did – but what he did pick up from the few moments that he zoned in between thoughts was that today was going to be a taster session – an introduction to Home Economics and for one time only, Hutchinson was going to provide the class with the ingredients so that they could make fairy cakes. So with that, the class got up from their seats and dispersed through the classroom, finding different kitchen stations. Ste settled with station 4 where Amy, Doug and a few of their other classmates such as Josh Ashworth, Michaela McQueen (who was one of their other good friends but she had a friendship group of her own) and Leanne Holliday. Everyone seemed so enthusiastic to complete something that seemed to Ste like a mere child's task. Not like Ste was ever one of those children who baked cakes with their parents and were allowed to lick the mixture off the spoon. He'd only ever seen that on adverts.

Home Economics was the first time Ste had ever seen Amy struggle with something. It wasn't like she was particularly bad at it; it was more the fact that she was a very academic person so completing a task that was so hands-on was very daunting to her. He tried to suppress laughter as she fussed around, wiping flour on her forehead and flapped about where she'd left her utensils. Doug was far more organised, neatly arranging things as if he had a severe case of obsessive compulsive disorder and proudly making things 'exactly how his mother made them'. Ste, however, didn't even try. He flicked flour at his friends whenever he had the chance and stole their cake mixture, sticking his finger into their food and sucking before attempting to plunge his finger back in, much to their disgust. He was often stopped by a slap of the hand and he grinned sheepishly at them.

"Dude, you haven't done anything…" Doug pointed out, peering over Ste's shoulder after he had put his cakes into the oven.

"I can't be bothered…" Ste replied nonchalantly, shrugging his shoulders. He glanced at the photocopy of the cooking book in front of him and sighed. He didn't want to make these stupid cakes anyway.

"Oh, come on…" Doug nudged him. "All you have to do is…"

"I know what to do, Doug!" Ste rolled his eyes. "I'm not stupid. I just don't see the point."

"Right. Fine. Let Hutchinson tear you apart for just standing about…" Doug smiled.

"Have you seen him? He wouldn't hurt a fly." Ste sighed and looked back at the photocopy, focusing on the words he could make sense of. He tried to throw things together that he was sure he saw other people do and slowly but surely, his food seemed to make some kind of sense. It didn't look like a total disaster.

By the time the lesson was over and it was time to take things out of the oven and decorate them, Ste started to realise that his food hadn't exactly gone to plan. It wasn't as bad as he had expected but in comparison to Amy and Doug's… He sighed to himself and started icing them, hoping to cover up the mistakes by piping on swirls of buttercream. When Hutchinson paced around to check on their finished products, Ste felt himself flush. But for once, Ste wasn't mocked or scolded or belittled.

"Great icing work." Hutchinson praised, smiling brightly. "Could've done with longer in the oven but it's your first time. It _looks _great."

"Um…" Ste didn't know how to respond. He was _never _praised by a teacher. They all thought he was a waste of space. "Thanks…"

"No problem. What was your name again?" Hutchinson asked with a genuine interest in his voice.

Ste swallowed and glanced at his two friends who raised their eyebrows, almost as surprised by the interest as he was. "Um…Ste. Ste Hay."

"Well… keep up the good work, Ste." Hutchinson smiled before walking on and Ste took a deep breath, almost allowing himself to smile before remembering he didn't give a crap about Home Economics anyway.

Nevertheless, he had done _well _in a lesson. It felt good.

-OXO-

Brendan smiled to himself and relaxed in his office chair, enjoying the peacefulness that came with his free period. He had been advised that the free time was best used planning lessons or marking work but frankly, he couldn't be bothered. He sighed to himself, realising that soon he'd have to go home to Eileen stressing about the salon and Paddy throwing tantrums like he did a lot lately. It wasn't something he was particularly looking forward to. It wasn't that he didn't love his wife and children – it was just not really his ideal greeting after a day of work.

He sat up straight and looked across the empty classroom; the pencil shavings that lined the floor, the chairs pushed away from the desk as they were vacated in a hurry and the year's worth of scribbles on the worktops by generations of bored students. He thought back to the lessons he had taught that day – the terrified year 7s and the inattentive year 10s. The boy who had been unable to read despite him approaching 15. The same boy that had caused him trouble upon entering his classroom. He wondered to himself if he'd done the right thing. If he should've told the boy what the problem was and offered more help instead of keeping quiet. Maybe Steven needed his help.

He pondered this for a moment more before he stood up and walked out of the classroom, taking the short trip down the corridor to the reception desk. He stopped and leaned against it, peering down at the woman sat behind her. She finished typing on her computer and looked up at him with brown eyes, her blonde curls falling around her round face.

"And what do _ye _want?" She smiled, her Irish voice taking on no seriousness.

"Chez, I'm tired. I quit." He grinned back at her, running a hand through his hair. Cheryl was 2 years younger than him and she had worked here as the receptionist since she was 19. It always helped having family ties in a place – it was a good, quick way of obtaining a job.

"Hey, ye can't quit already, lazy." She shook her head. "Aren't you supposed to be teaching anyway or did you just leave your kids to run riot?"

"Free period." He replied bluntly, reaching over to steal a banana from the fruit bowl behind the counter. "Thanks."

"_That _was for visitors." She scolded, tutting softly. "I'm supposed to be filing things and you're distracting me, you big idiot."

He shrugged and peeled the banana, biting into it. "Where's '_the headteacher'_?" He asked her, mockingly using air quotes and she smiled.

"He's probably working. Unlike you…" She looked at him and chewed the end of her pen. "Honest, though, Bren, how's it been going? The students giving you any trouble?"

"I think I can handle a few spot riddled kids, Chez…"

"Mhm…"

"It's been…interesting. Enlightening." He nodded, shoving the last of the banana into his mouth.

"Elaborate."

"I had a year 10 kid, right…" Brendan began, putting the banana skin down behind the counter. "Proper scally. Turned up late, wasn't listening, mouthing off…"

"That narrows it down to most of the year group, then…" She rolled her eyes sarcastically.

"Yeah, but…" He shook his head. "14 years old and he couldn't even read. Worst part is; I don't think anyone else has noticed."

"Wh…" She paused. "Are ye sure he wasn't just pretending to get out of doing his work?"

"I dunno…" Brendan thought about it for a moment. Remembered how Steven had panicked and flushed, ashamed. "I doubt it."

"You ought to talk to him. Offer him support. Send an email down the supports office too." She sighed. "No kid at that age should struggle like that. Is he dyslexic or just plain uneducated?"

"Both?" He drummed his fingers on the counter. "I'll look into it."

"What's his name?" Cheryl asked but all she got in reply was Brendan tapping the counter as he walked away.

"I'll see ye later, sis!"

She sighed and rolled her eyes. Typical.

-OXO-

Ste was happy to hear the bell go at the end of the day. Only because it meant that he was free from trying to work. Nevertheless, he could never shake that feeling of dread when it got to the last 10 minutes of fifth period as it started to dawn on him that he had a lot to go back to. Unlike his fellow students, home wasn't a place of relaxation, food, fun and sleep. It was more a place of vile words, alcohol, money issues and the occasional bruise. Not like that was anyone's business. He swung his locker shut and hung his bag over his shoulder, making his way down the corridor, trying to clear his head of thoughts of Pauline sat in the kitchen drunk and Terry storming in, screaming mad about the rent. Or Pauline. Or Ste. Or just screaming mad about anything.

He blinked and snapped from his daydream, looking up to see John Paul fucking McQueen heading towards him. He was in senior year and proudly brandished his 'Prefect' status but he was a royal cunt. He was one of those students who everyone respected and looked up to and even the teachers held him in high regard. But Ste hated him. See, John Paul thought he was above Ste. Ever since he'd befriended Michaela – John Paul's little sister – he'd had this issue with Ste leading her astray. He'd always mocked him and made fun of him (though he wasn't as bad as some other students) but in all honesty, he could do without it today. So with that, he took a sharp right angle turn and head down the closest corridor, rushing a bit to hope John Paul didn't catch up with him. He checked over his shoulder and collided with something tall.

"Whoa! Careful!" Mr. Brady snapped, holding Ste still for a moment. "You nearly knocked me over…"

Ste sighed and glanced over his shoulder again before looking up at his geography teacher. "Sorry."

"Where're ye off to in such a rush anyway?" Brady raised his eyebrows, peering down at Ste. "I thought it was only year 7s that ran home."

Ste nearly let himself laugh at the joke. "No, I was just avoiding someone."

"Ah, of course…" Brady nodded.

Ste shifted and wondered why he had stopped. Why he wasn't still walking away from John Paul. Usually, he'd have apologised and continued in his path but yet here he was, stood in the corridor, _conversing. _This never happened. He couldn't even find a reason as to why he'd let himself stay and reply to Mr. Brady's questions but whatever it was, it was stupid.

"Uhh…" Ste tried to form some excuse to get away. "I'm gonna go home."

Brady nodded and Ste escaped, heading down the corridor before he heard a voice behind him, stopping him in his tracks.

"Steven?"

He frowned. He'd just told him he was leaving. He turned and looked back at Brady, watching him as he slowly approached him.

"About… this lunchtime." He began. Ste felt his body tense up and he froze. Brady hadn't noticed. Please god, he hadn't noticed, had he? "Could you come to see me tomorrow lunchtime? I think we need to talk."

"I'm fine, Sir, honest. I was just tired." Ste laughed and shrugged his shoulders but he couldn't help feeling victimised.

"I'm just trying to help, Steven." Brady offered a smile but Ste didn't return it.

"I know." Ste nodded and turned on his heel, rushing down the corridor as fast as he could.

He wished Brady would just get off his back. He was fine. He didn't need help. Did he?


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: Yup, another update already ^.^**

**Chapter 4**

Terry was not in when Ste got back. He was glad momentarily when he walked in the door and didn't see his tattered trainers lying in the hall or his jacket hung up or strewn on the floor. But then he realised that he wasn't free for very long so there was no point in celebrating. Sure enough, as he had expected, Pauline was in the living room, half sitting and half lying on the sofa with a half empty bottle of vodka in her hand. He didn't even want to know if the bottle was full when she started. He walked in and put his school bag down on the floor, sitting in the armchair beside the sofa and looking at her.

"Where's Terry?" Ste asked after a moment.

"Dunno." She replied, her eyes closed. "He'll be home soon."

"It's rent day so he's gonna be…"

"I know." She cut him off.

Ste sighed. Whenever Terry was in a foul mood, his favourite way of venting it and cooling down was through his fists. Sometimes it was aimed at Pauline but most of the time she relied on him to get in the way, to protect her and take the hit. If he was around then Terry preferred to hit him; he hated him. Ste flicked the TV on and tried to occupy his mind, tried to stop himself from listening to the inevitable sound of Terry's key in the front door. As soon as the TV switched on, it elicited a groan from Pauline.

"Turn it off…" She opened her eyes and shot him a glare. "We haven't paid the fucking rent, remember? Don't wanna make it obvious that we're home!"

"Oh." Ste nodded, pretended he'd forgotten when he hadn't at all. He just didn't care. He switched the TV off and threw the remote down.

"You're a fucking waste of space, you know that?" She snapped, still riled by his tiny 'mistake'.

It stung and he closed his eyes momentarily, trying to shake of her meaningless words. But they weren't meaningless… not to Ste. He wanted her to be proud of him. Wanted her to be the kind of mum who he could go home to and tea would be on the table and he could sit down and tell her about how Hutchinson had praised him in Home Economics, about how Brady was willing to help him through things he was struggling with. Then again, he knew that if he tried now, if he told her all the things that had happened today and how – for once – he didn't feel like a total failure at school, she wouldn't care. She'd just laugh at him for thinking he had any chance of getting out of this council estate and she was right. One Home Economics class and one teacher's attempt was never going to get him anywhere.

He stood up and walked out to the kitchen, ignoring Pauline shouting after him and sat down at the table with a glass of water, trying to clear his head. He wasn't sure how long he was sat there for until he heard the noise of feet coming up the path and keys rattling in the door. Then, sure enough, the door opened and Terry was inside, kicking his shoes off and shrugging his jacket off, discarding them both on the floor. His face was contorted to show his irritation at the day in general and one could say he 'woke up on the wrong side of bed' but Ste knew Terry too well to say that he had days where he _wasn't _like this. He headed into the living room and leaned in the doorway. Ste listened intently.

"You been here on your fat backside all fucking day?" He asked, snappy, demanding for an answer that would give him an excuse to kick off.

"I was at the job centre…" He heard her meek reply and knew that she was lying but he didn't blame her. He would lie too if it saved him a beating.

"Right. Let me guess, no jobs?" He replied in a tone that proved he had heard that excuse one too many times. Terry was a hypocrite, Ste thought. He always had something to say about Pauline not working but he didn't have a steady job either so only God knows where he spent all his time during the day.

"Mm…" Pauline sighed. "As per… Did you pay the rent?"

"Did I fuck…" He laughed humourlessly at her pathetic question. "Where's dinner?"

"I haven't cooked." Ste heard her reply and he winced, realising that was going to be the thing that flipped the switch that set the beast off.

"I come home to find you and _her_ sitting around and you haven't bothered to cook anything for me?! What kind of g…" He began, the anger building in his voice. 'Her' was referring to Ste – as per usual – and he knew exactly what Pauline was about to say. It always worked that way.

"Don't look at me!" She cut him off and he heard her getting up, moving. "I told Ste to cook dinner for us both, ready for when you get home! I don't know if he's done it or not!" He laughed bitterly, silently, to himself. He knew she would. Terry turned in the doorway to look dead at Ste and Pauline came up from behind him, looking at him too.

"Wh…" Ste stood up. "Uh, no you didn't!"

"Don't fucking lie to me, Steven Hay…" Pauline shot him a glare behind Terry's back, followed by the tiniest 'do me this one favour' look and Ste realised any attempt to fight this onslaught from them both was futile. Terry advanced on him.

"Me and your mam put a roof over your head, clothes on your back and food in your fucking mouth and you don't even have the decency to do what your fucking mother tells you to do?!" He yelled, enraged and Ste just blinked, staring at him, mumbling an apology that fell on deaf ears. He stumbled backwards, away from Terry's approach until his back was against the counter and Terry was only a metre or so away from him.

"When are you going to fucking listen, you braindead waste of space?!"

The last thing Ste remembered was wincing and whimpering, glancing at his mother's expressionless face as Terry descended on him, a storm of fists and kicks and punches until Ste was nothing more than some helpless kid begging for mercy. He was always reduced to this.

-OXO-

In the morning of Brendan's second day of work; he was late in. Declan had fallen sick and had been whining all morning. Eileen had gone into the salon early so it was Brendan's job to take care of him until she came back after he called her, begging her to come home so he wasn't late to his new job. He had missed his whole first period and part of his second by the time Eileen came rushing back in.

"I'm so _so _sorry! He was sleeping when I set off, I had no idea…" She rambled, throwing her bag down and cuddling Declan. "It's okay, sweetheart… your mummy's here. She's gonna take care of ye now…"

Brendan sighed and stroked his son's sweat slick forehead, looking at Eileen. "Well, you're here now…that's the main thing…"

"How late are ye?" She bit her lip and looked worried.

"Uh, I'll get there sometime during break time. It's no big deal. I'll just be honest." He shrugged and she looked apologetic.

"I'm sorry, babe…" She checked her watch. "What're ye waiting for?! Go!"

He nodded and got up, kissing her softly and then leaning down to kiss Declan's forehead before he grabbed his briefcase. "Love ye…"

"I love ye too…" She smiled softly and watched as he left, closing the front door behind him.

Just as he had predicted, he didn't get into work until the tail end of breaktime and he knew for a fact that he was setting a terrible first impression to the teachers who he hadn't really conversed with yet. He walked into the main entrance and up to the reception desk, rolling his eyes at his sister as he did so. She tutted at him, mock scolding him and he smiled.

"Deccy's sick… like really sick…" He sighed, looking at Cheryl.

"Aw, poor baby…" She frowned. "Tell him his auntie Cheryl wants him to get better and she'll visit him with presents when he's feeling a wee bit better…"

"Mm, I will…" He smiled. "I should probably get to work and go apologise…"

"See ye…"

And with that he walked down the corridor, stopping in front of the closed door that had 3 plastic chairs outside it, running along the wall. He sighed and raised his fist, slowly knocking on the door that bore a small, clean silver sign; 'Headmaster'.

"Come in." He heard the gruff voice that still sent small shivers down Brendan's spine and he opened the door, walking inside.

The room was untidy, the walls littered with old photographs and certificates and the desk covered in unorganised stacks of paperwork. Behind the desk sat a slightly overweight man, around 60 years old, his long hair was brown in colour but greying slightly and he was clad in an old tweed suit. He didn't look like a man who would run a high school like this and Brendan sometimes wished he didn't.

"Ah, Brendan…" the man smiled, a false friendliness in his expression. His voice was gruff, damaged by years of cigarettes and alcohol but it was distinctly Irish. Dublin. Where Brendan was born and raised but that was no surprise considering…

"Da…" Brendan nodded back, walking up to the desk but keeping a metre away from it. He always liked to keep a bit of distance between them, even know. It was probably pathetic to anyone else but to Brendan it was a necessary precaution. It made him feel safer.

This man, Seamus Brady, was the reason Brendan had got a job at Hollyoaks High so easily. He had barely had to sit through any kind of formalities despite the other applicants as his father had swiftly fast-tracked him through straight to the position he held now. He was lucky in a way to have a job so easily but he would have rather gone out and obtained it himself, so that he could hold it proudly and not have to live with the knowledge that he had relied on _Seamus _of all people to support him. But he had been desperate. With two children to feed, he didn't have time to sit around and wait for a job to smack him in the face. He didn't have time to pick and choose. He needed money and Seamus offered him the job. He would have been an idiot not to take it. He'd told himself as soon as he took up the job that he would just stay as far away from Seamus as he could and try not to converse with him much at work. Get on with it and keep his head down. But he knew for a fact that was going to be near impossible, especially since he was sure that his father was going to use this as an excuse to keep tabs on him.

"We're at work, Brendan… I've told you…" There was a smile on Seamus' face that Brendan didn't like. It made him feel nauseous.

"…I'm not going to call you boss…" Brendan swallowed thickly and shook his head, glancing around the office in an attempt to avoid eye contact. Seamus went to speak but Brendan continued. "Or Sir… You're Da or Seamus…"

Seamus sighed and leaned back in his office chair, his eyes boring right into Brendan. He felt like he was looking right into his mind and soul and Brendan did his best not to flinch. He exhaled slowly and blinked, feeling like everything was in slow motion and the room around him was trapping him, draining the air out so he could hardly breathe without it drumming in his ears.

"I…um…" He cleared his throat and shifted, snapping back. A cool exterior would work well here. "I just wanted to apologise for being so late to work this morning… I'm here now so…" He avoided telling his father any reasons behind his lack of punctuality. The less that man knew about his life the better.

"Ah…" Seamus nodded, his eyes fixed on Brendan. "What happened?"

"Declan. Declan is sick." He told him bluntly, trying to divulge as little about his children as physically possible.

"Poor thing." Seamus sighed, sitting up straight. "I'll come and visit him tomorrow… See if his old granddad can't put a smile on his face."

Brendan frowned and looked up at his father, a mild anger on his face. "No."

"No?" He seemed surprised.

"No." Brendan repeated. "We're…uh… busy tomorrow."

"The weekend then?" Seamus tried again, challenging Brendan. He shot his father a dark look, one that he was sure he would understand.

"Declan and Paddy's schedules are fully booked for the foreseeable future. I'll let you know if any changes occur." He told him sharply before turning and heading out of the office, trying to ignore the sound of Seamus' laughter behind him as he shut the door. He exhaled heavily when he got out into the corridor, the air suddenly becoming a lot less dense. That would be his last meeting with his father for a long time if Brendan had anything to say about it.

-OXO-

"You're being so quiet today, Ste!"

It was the first thing Ste had really listened to in his science lesson; he'd been zoned out for the rest of the day. His mind was occupied by thoughts of the previous nights and how it had been one of the worst beatings that Terry had ever given him. Sharp shots of pain were constantly running through his body every time he moved or something came in contact with his ribs. He'd managed to protect his face with his arms through most of Terry's beating so he only had a slight black eye and a bust lip which he told Amy and Doug was down to some idiots on his estate that he'd crossed paths with. They'd believed him. It was nearly lunchtime and Ste had been instructed the day before to go back to Brady for some reason and Ste wasn't feeling up for it – especially not when he was so low and battered.

"Yeah, sorry, Ames…" He forced a smile her way and shrugged. "I'm tired."

"Stop being boring! _I'm _tired!" Doug cut in, turning around in his chair to face the bench that him and Amy were sat on, only to receive a mild warning by the teacher.

"I'm sick of seeing the back of your head, Douglas Carter!" He warned and Doug muttered an apology, causing Amy and Ste to giggle softly.

When the bell for lunch went, Ste wasn't feeling too pleased with the knowledge he had to go back to Brady's classroom and face up to whatever it was that he wanted. Ste was going to be red with embarrassment when Brady even bothered to pick up on Ste's lack of academic ability and he could just picture the half pitiful, half judgmental look that would be on Brady's face as he told him. He knew he couldn't escape it since Brady wasn't going to let it slide but he also knew that Brady wouldn't be able to help him. His parents were right, he was a waste of space and Brady of all people wouldn't be able to change that.

He told his friends that he had been roped into a detention and they believed him; they were used to his misbehaviour in lessons and he made his way towards the Geography department. The palms of his hands were sweaty and he could feel his pulse racing. He tried to calm himself down, blinking, blaming his state on his nervousness. It had to be nervousness, right? What else could it be that set him off like this? He stopped outside Brady's office and swallowed thickly, hesitating. He raised his fist, ready to knock when the door swung open before his fist connected with the wood work. He nearly squealed with shock.

"Steven. I've been expecting you." Brady walked back into the empty classroom and Ste tentatively followed, closing the door behind him.

"How did you know I..." Ste began.

"I heard you outside. You'd be terrible at sneaking up on people." Brady cut him off, sitting down on his chair, spinning it to Ste's direction, looking at him, smiling at his own joke. Ste forced half a smile and rubbed his arm awkwardly, scanning the classroom.

"Don't look so nervous, Steven. I'm a geography teacher not the IRA leader."

Ste blinked and looked at Brady. "The what?"

"Never mind." Brady shook his head and laughed to himself. "You're young. I'll forgive it."

Did he just do something stupid again, he thought to himself. Was he supposed to know what the IR whatever was? Brady had probably tried to make some joke that anyone else his age would have the knowledge to understand and find hilarious but Ste didn't have a clue. He blushed, realising how stupid and how lacking in general knowledge he was. In fact, he didn't even know who the president of England was or anything like that. They did call it the president, right?

He blinked and realised he had zoned out. Brady was staring at him expectantly; fingers locked together, eyebrows raised. Ste let out a nervous laughter and shifted, trying to avoid Brady's intense stare. Any time he caught a glimpse of Brady, it sent shivers through his body and brought his goosebumps out – probably something to do with feeling intimidated, Ste guessed. What else could it be?

"Sit…" Brady instructed, pointing to the student desk directly in front of Brady's and Ste complied, taking a seat. He didn't slouch and sit back like he usually did. He was too on edge so he sat up straight and placed his arms on the desk, sighing softly. Brady was looking at him and Ste couldn't do anything else but look back. He realised for the first time that Brady had blue eyes. The kind of blue that Amy always told him he would have if he ate healthier but Ste never understood that. There was silence for a while and Ste couldn't do anything else but watch Brady intently, waiting for his next move. He watched as Brady lifted his hand and brushed it over his moustache that looked rough to touch.

"Steven, look…" Brady sighed, trying to find words. "Your detention… the task I set you… I noticed something."

"I know what you're thinking, right, sir…" Ste cut in, desperate to get there before Brady did. "That I'm some idiot who can't read. But I can… I was just tired… weren't thinking straight."

"Right…" Brady nodded, not buying it at all. He knew he wasn't buying it. "So if I gave you a book right now… asked you to read it to me… you could?" He raised his eyebrows.

Ste looked down, flushed crimson and stayed silent. Fuck. Brady got him.

"I don't think you're some idiot who can't read," Brady continued, punctuating his words. Making them count. And for once, for the first time in his history of teachers, he listened. "I think… I think it runs deeper than that. It doesn't make you an idiot, it's just a problem. There are millions of people who…"

"Who what?" Ste shook his head, looking up at Brady, praying that it wasn't obvious that tears were forming in his eyes. "Who didn't concentrate when they were little and never actually _got _how to do it?!"

"Steven…" Brady tried but Ste cut him off. He was pushing his luck, talking back like this but he just couldn't help it.

"No!" He laughed bitterly. "I don't need you sitting me down and telling me what a waste of space I am! I already feel daft enough when I get all my words jumbled up and I have to ask Ames or Doug what the easiest words say or mean! I don't need this…"

He stood up and grabbed his bag but Brady stood up too. He flinched. He never talked back. Not ever. Usually any time he had attempted at home he had been cut down by a punch and a vicious word and he was sure Brady was going to be so angry. He dared to look and met Brady's gaze. He didn't look angry, he looked exasperated. Brady wasn't looking at him with pity or with judgement or any of the things that Ste had envisioned when he thought about this liaison. Instead, he looked genuinely willing to help. Like he wanted to get somewhere with Ste. And it struck a cord in him, made his heart stop for a second that there was some teacher in this place that didn't think he was a total liability. He actually thought Ste was someone worth putting effort into. It made Ste happy. For a moment.

"Steven, please. It's not about you being stupid, it's not." He was trying to get through to Ste and fuck, it was working. "When I was at high school, I was really bad at maths, okay? I was so bad and the teachers never cared. I wasn't concentrating and they all thought I was useless and _I _thought I was useless. I look back now and I wish someone had given me the opportunity to get better. I don't think you're stupid, Steven. I think you need help."

"I don't n…" Ste was speechless. Why did he care what Brady had to say?! Why didn't he just walk out and tell him to do one!?

"I think you have dyslexia." Brady told him after a pause. Ste didn't know what it was but it sounded a lot better than 'brain dead'.

"I don't know what that is." Ste replied eventually, feeling his cheeks redden.

"Sit back down…" Brady tried but Ste didn't budge. He stayed stood by Brady's desk, looking down on him. Brady rolled his eyes. "Or not…"

Ste just waited for this supposed helpful miracle Brady was offering.

"Dyslexia is…" Ste knew that Brady was trying to find the right words to explain it, to ensure he didn't insult Ste more. "When you're reading do your letters get messed up and you can't see them properly like they're nothing but symbols? Your D's and B's always seem to mix up? Things like that?"

Ste was silent. Brady was onto something but Ste wasn't giving him the satisfaction.

"It's not because you're an idiot. It's a recognised difficultly that even the smartest of people can have. It's not necessarily because you were taught poorly or you didn't concentrate. It just _is. _And it's not the end of the world."

Ste exhaled. He had a 'difficulty'. Yeah, right. So he wasn't an idiot, fair enough. But now Brady was making him out to be some retard with a mental problem. He'd have preferred to be an idiot.

"I'm not a retard."

"I never said you were." Brady smiled slightly. "Being dyslexic doesn't make you anything like that. It's really common, honestly."

Ste considered the information Brady had just given to him and he sighed, sitting back down at the desk. If Brady was telling the truth then maybe Ste wasn't so stupid after all. Maybe he could get better and actually do something with his life but an outcome like that felt out of this world to him. It didn't feel possible that he wouldn't be spending the rest of his life in the dole queue or stacking shelves in a charity shop. He should've probably told Brady that he was talking rubbish and walked out, but he _couldn't. _Brady had, as much as Ste hated it, sparked hope in Ste and he couldn't walk away from that right now. But then again, just having a name for what he was didn't cure it and it certainly didn't tell Ste what the best course of action was. He was probably going to be branded and thrown in the 'handicapped' category.

"I suppose you're gonna wheel me off to Learning Support with all the other retards and be done with me?" Ste laughed bitterly, rolling his eyes. Brady frowned and shook his head, looking unsurprised at Ste's words.

"First off, stop calling them that..." He scolded lightly. "And secondly, no. I'm not going to send you to Learning Support. Not if you don't want me too. I understand that you… have pride. Just like anyone your age and I wouldn't want to damage that. If it makes you feel more comfortable, we'll deal with this internally."

Ste blinked. Brady talked a lot and he talked very concisely. The problem with that was he used a lot of sophisticated phrases that Ste didn't really understand. He got the jist of it but Brady talked way too fast for his liking.

"What are you trying to say?" Ste asked, chewing his lip. The fact he was considering anything Brady was offering him was laughable.

"I'm saying that _I'm _willing to help you." Brady told him, tilting his head and sitting forward, waiting on Ste's response. No one had ever offered Ste help. No teacher had ever done anything except punish Ste for his lack of attentiveness and effort. That was excluding the tiny compliment he'd received in Home Economics.

"How?" Ste couldn't help himself.

"We'll do private lessons. Sounds weird, I know…" Brady smiled knowingly. "But if you come to me a couple of lunchtimes a day or maybe after school if you wanna spend time with your friends at lunch… and I'll help you with your reading and writing. I'll throw a bit of geography in there too for good measure. I'm not an English teacher but I'm qualified enough."

Ste swallowed. Brady was setting aside time just to help _him?! _Why would anyone want to help Ste at all? He wasn't worth it. He didn't want to miss his lunchtimes with Amy and Doug; they were the only reasons he bothered coming to school and after school seemed ever so promising when he realised it meant that for a few days of the week he was safe from his mum and Terry just a little while longer. Hesitantly, resentfully, Ste felt himself breaking.

"…Um…" He cleared his throat and felt his pulse do that weird jumpy thing again. "After school…"

"If that's better for you…" Brady nodded in agreement, happy that he had made a breakthrough.

"Yeah, after school." Ste couldn't believe he was complying.

"We'll do Tuesday's and Thursday's as of next week. That is of course dependant on whether or not you can do those days…" Brady looked at Ste and Ste felt himself flush for no reason at all. It was weird that those kinds of things continued to happen. Ste decided it was down to nerves as per usual.

"Any day is fine." His throat was dry. The air in the room felt thick, he didn't know why, but it did and for some reason his whole body was hot under Brady's gaze.

"Tuesday's and Thursday's it is then. I'll see you on Tuesday." He smiled but Ste couldn't find the effort to smile back. He just looked at Brady as his lips curved into a warm, welcoming expression and he blinked slowly. What was _wrong _with him?!

"See ya…" He stood up, grabbed his bag and headed for the door only stopping when he was stood in the doorway. He turned around and as he had expected, Brady was still watching him.

"Sir…?" Ste started tentatively. Brady's gaze never wavered.

"Yes, Steven?"

"Thank you." He smiled, genuinely. "Really."

For the first time, Brady looked surprised. He nodded. "You're welcome."

And then Ste was gone and the door was closed behind him. He leant against the wall by his door and exhaled heavily, only just realising how often he had held his breath in that classroom. Ste smiled to himself and started walking, ignoring the fact that he was looking forward to Tuesday far more than he should.

-OXO-

**A longer chapter than usual because you're all beautiful creatures! *cuddles***


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: I'm so sorry for the long delay on this chapter, the hot weather murders my brain cells and I've been ever so stuck on how to form this chapter. Forgive me… *cuddles* **

**Chapter 5**

By the time Tuesday came around, Brendan was starting to regret his decision. He had spent the whole of Monday night awake trying to plan out some miniature lesson that would assist yet refrain from patronising poor Steven. Brendan was used to standing in front of a class and churning out Geographical phrases at them regardless of their concentration – after all, their grades were in their hands. But now he had a one to one lesson to do, a help session. He needed to do something that would show the young boy he was a good help. He needed to make the first lesson stick. First impressions had never been so important. When it got to Tuesday morning, Brendan had come up with nothing bar _'find a good textbook'. _He was considering sending a memo to Steven's form tutor telling him not to come and then he could get on the phone to the LS and let them handle Steven's dyslexia instead. He was out of his depth. Nevertheless, he couldn't stop now. The boy depended on him like a father right now, he could see that.

It wasn't that he didn't want to help him; he really thought the boy had potential. Despite that, he still knew that the best course of action would have been to call Learning Support but there was something in him, he didn't know what, that told him that Steven would appreciate and probably needed Brendan's sole help more than the help of a department who dealt with this on a day to day basis. He didn't want to make Steven feel like another burden, another name on the 'to do' list down at LS. He wanted to show Steven that the boy was worth the effort of someone. Not to mention, he was pretty sure that Steven was a liability by choice and therefore was going to be tough to handle if he decided he wasn't in the mood.

He sighed and checked his watch. It was nearing the end of lunchtime – only two more lessons and then he would have to watch Steven come into his classroom so full of hope. He didn't want to disappoint the young boy.

His first week at Hollyoaks High had gone better than expected. He'd mingled with the staff and they weren't as bad as he had first assumed. The PE teacher was an ex-footballer and acted slightly like he had a poker up his arse but he could cope with him. The textiles teacher never fucking shut up but she was friendly enough and once Brendan had gotten into a conversation with 'Anne', he started to realise she wasn't as superficial as she originally came off. The cooking teacher came across as a bit of an overfriendly idiot and the rest were neither here nor there. He'd decided that he'd rather spend as many of his lunchtimes as possible with his sister, or on his own in his classroom but he knew he had to venture into the staff room once in a while but today was _not _going to be one of those days. He sat back and relaxed until the bell went and then watched as a sea of bored, lethargic students poured into his classroom. They were an easy lesson.

He looked at the clock. Not long to go. He flew through his last 2 lessons with ease since no one caused any problems and the lack of effort somewhat, as much as he didn't want to admit it, was mutual in him. By the time the last bell resonated, he was sat with a few textbooks in front of him and a blank mind. Steven was going to walk through the door any minute now and Brendan still didn't know what to do. He was going to mess things up with the boy, he knew he would.

At 3:15, fifteen minutes later than expected, there was a tentative knock on the door and it opened to reveal a bored looking Steven stood in his classroom doorway. Brendan looked at him and offered a smile that was not returned. Steven looked about as unenthusiastic as his past 2 classes of students had, if not more. His hair was unstyled and his bag hung from his shoulder, looking as lifeless and worn as Steven did. He walked in and sat down opposite Brendan, leaning back and folding his arms. He had a fading bruise across his eye and a cut on his lip, scars that no boy his age should have to bear; Brendan knew that better than anyone. He shuddered at the memories and cast them away, inspecting the boy before him.

"How did you get those bruises?" He asked, cautiously and Steven gave him a glare that was akin to one he'd seen Eileen give him when he pissed her off.

"I got into a fight on my estate." Steven replied bluntly, matter of fact, and Brendan knew there was a chance he was lying. Brendan came up with the most pathetic excuses when he was a kid and he just made them _sound _so factual that people believed it.

"Oh. Who with?" He questioned. If he kept asking and Steven was lying, he would slip up eventually.

"Just some guy."

"Why?"

"He was giving me lip."

"About what?"

"Is it any of your business?!" Steven snapped. Interesting. Brendan shrugged and sat forward, studying the young boy.

"Maybe not…" Brendan sighed. A moment of silence that felt like centuries stretched out between them. Brendan cleared his throat. "So since I'm your tutor now, where would you like to start?"

"I thought that was _your _job." Steven raised his eyebrows and sat up straight, keeping his arms folded and his eyes on Brendan's. Brendan smiled a little. Steven was cleverer than he had anticipated and he was sure as hell that he would see through his façade and notice that Brendan didn't exactly know how to handle things. But he also hoped that he could lie convincingly and make it seem like an unplanned lesson was the intention. After all, he had been lying all his life. Not that he wanted to think about the implications behind that.

"It is…" Brendan nodded slowly and met Steven's gaze. They held it for a moment before Brendan laughed a bit and held his hands up a bit in resignation. "Alright, alright. I'll be honest; I've never done this before. I'm a bit clueless. Nevertheless, I'm still going to help you, I just… have nothing planned."

Steven was quiet for a moment and Brendan was worried the boy was going to lose faith in him. Instead, he saw the Mancunian break into a smile at his honesty. A smile that was oh so similar to…

_Wednesday's were the worst days. He always had a lecture on a Wednesday afternoon and the amount of times he'd come close to falling asleep there had been uncountable. It was raining in Liverpool again today despite the weather forecast saying that it would be sunny everywhere else in the country. Brendan, for the last time, had trusted the weatherman and ventured outside without an umbrella. He cursed his decision as he hurried through the streets, the rain soaking through his clothes and running down his skin. He shivered and pushed the door open of his usual morning visit, the smell of fresh coffee and cocoa and any other hot beverage hit his nostrils and warmed his senses. He definitely needed it this morning. It was fairly busy in comparison to usual today. 'Fairly busy' meaning there was about 10 people in compared to the usual 3 – all not including the workers – but Brendan liked the fact that there was hardly ever anyone in the coffee shop, it meant that it was quiet and relaxing. Escapism from the bustling corridors of university and the crowded pavements of Liverpool's heart. He shook the rain off himself and walked up to the counter._

_Behind the counter was a boy of only about 18 - young compared to Brendan who was growing close to 24 - with a head of blonde hair that was messy yet styled. He had been working in this coffee shop for as long as Brendan could remember and he had become accustomed to the smile that the boy flashed at him and the warm welcome. He saw the boy fiddle at the coffee machine before he had even reached it and by the time he had been at the counter for at least a minute, his usual order was placed in front of him, served with a bright smile from the boy. There was something about that smile... _

_"Your usual, sir..." The boy held onto his genuine yet bold grin and placed his hands on the counter, leaning dangerously close to Brendan. So close he wanted to pull away on instinct. He smelt of aftershave and mint and a smell that Brendan could only pin on being his natural scent (that was unless he had discovered a pretty damn good aftershave that no one else had) The boy watched Brendan for a moment before speaking. "And between you and me...the boss isn't in today... It's on the house." _

_Brendan exhaled, glad that the boy didn't push his luck and smiled back. He had spent morning after morning stood on this side of the counter, exchanging small talk and glances with this boy and he hadn't even had the courtesy to ask for his name. Not like he cared... he was just being friendly, being civil like a normal human being. Any other implications were purely ridiculous and would only be assumed by those who didn't know Brendan. But there was something about the boy that made Brendan want to know what..._

_"What's yer name?" He asked, suddenly. The boy blinked and looked taken aback for a moment and Brendan worried if his civil nature was going to come across as flirtatious. He wanted to be sick at the thought. The boy smiled and shrugged, folding his arms._

_"Didn't know you were interested..." He smiled before replying. "Vinnie, my name's Vinnie."_

_"Can I call ye Vincent?" Brendan challenged. He didn't even know why. Vincent smiled and Brendan saw him flush a light shade of crimson that wasn't caused by the cold. Vincent nodded and met Brendan's gaze. That's when it all started. Vincent flashed Brendan a smile. A smile that was so similar to..._

Brendan blinked and realised he had been lost in his memory for a while and prayed it hadn't been long enough in 'the real world' for the boy sat across from him to realise. He looked up and realised Steven was laughing, a smile on his face mixed with a good bit of confusion. He exhaled and smiled too, watching the boy, knowing he had probably made the worst first impression known to man.

"You alright, sir?" Steven laughed slightly, raising his eyebrows. Brendan sighed, realising what an idiot he must look and nodded.

"Yeah, I just... I'm tired..." Brendan replied carefully, trying to find some response that would seem plausible compared to 'I was daydreaming about a guy I used to...' He stopped his own thoughts. No need to linger on that.

"Oh...I know the feeling..." Steven smiled, leaning back and yawning to prove his point. His voice took on a sarcastic tone that Brendan couldn't help but laugh at. "Spent all night up doing homework and readin' Shakespeare... what about you?"

Brendan's laugh was genuine. It had been a while that someone other than his sister and his children had made him laugh. "Oh, I'm sure... I was up all night looking after my wee boy. He has a fever and he's crying his eyes out all night..." He smiled at the thoughts of his own son and then cut himself short. He wasn't socialising... He was teaching! "We can start by analysing Shakespeare if you like?"

"You've got a son?" Steven looked more surprised than he had anticipated and he regretted divulging personal information to a student. It was one of the big no's if you were going to go into teaching. "And eh, no, 'thee', 'one', 'thy', I'd rather you helped me with words I know rather than throwing more at me..."

"Two...Two sons." Brendan told him and then cursed himself again. There was something about the boy that made Brendan feel as if they were on the same wavelength, despite their age gap. Steven was a very mature teenager - Brendan could relate to that. He grew up a lot faster than he was intended to but the reasons for that were best left in the dark. He knew that being more mature than you're meant to be was not necessarily always a good thing and with the bruises that Steven was sporting he wasn't sure that Steven's reasons were pleasant either.

"Wha?" Steven laughed in disbelief. "You must've had them dead young..."

"Um..." Brendan didn't know what to say. Divulging that he had been in a serious relationship since the age of 15 and was married by 20 wasn't exactly information he was prepared to share. "Not really... they're both very young."

"Oh." Steven smiled a bit. "Yeah, why didn't I think of that?" He let out a laugh that reminded Brendan of the noise donkeys made and it caused him to laugh a bit more obviously than he had intended. "What's funny?" Steven was suspicious and Brendan grinned back.

"Your laugh... it's funny." Brendan smiled and shook his head. Steven pouted and blushed slightly but Brendan kept on smiling. "We should probably get down to some actual work... do you have..."

"Um… Could ya..." Steven bit his lip and looked up at Brendan. "Could ya help me do my English homework? I know that's not what these sessions are for but I just..."

"No, shh..." Brendan cut him off. "Yes, I'll help you. Come sit next to me."

Steven nodded in obligation and grabbed his chair, pulling it around so he and Brendan were sat beside each other. It was an easy homework, a refresher on different structures of sentences and punctuation and they were done in no time. Steven grinned and folded his homework back into the book, sighing contently.

"Thanks for that, sir..." Steven spoke gratefully. "I'd have ended up getting Doug to do it for me and he gets dead moody with me when I do that..."

Brendan laughed and nodded. "Ah, cheating at homework... I remember that."

Steven looked at him, curious and puzzled and leaned back in his chair, keeping his gaze on Brendan. "Nah, I bet you were a proper nerd at school... no offence, like, but you have a dead good degree and stuff, don't you?"

Brendan shrugged slightly and pretended that this was light conversation for both parties. It wouldn't do him well to snap and tell him that Steven, his fucking student, ought to keep out of Brendan's past and school life. Steven had no idea of the fact that Brendan would sit in class being able to think of nothing other than what he was going through at home or that Brendan would go into class making up _another _excuse as to why he hadn't done his homework when no one was clever enough to realise that Brendan had no freedom, no escapism at home. He barely had time to live his childhood, never mind do his fucking homework. So he forced a smile at Steven and replied as honestly as he'd let himself. "I never really concentrated at school... I'm just lucky that I didn't completely screw it up. _But _that doesn't mean you can blag your way through school the way I did."

"Alright, alright, you don't have to sound like a nagging mother..." Steven grinned and tried to add a friendly tone to his voice, probably realising that friendly attitude and banter isn't usually something you exchange with a teacher. Brendan, however, took the statement lightly and smiled back.

"I'm just saying, Steven..." He watched the boy for a moment, studying his young complexion that seemed so out of place compared to the age in Steven's eyes. He frowned and wondered again about the bruises that spoiled Steven's face, hoping to himself that it was just a silly boy's fight and nothing more. He sighed and checked his watch, realising that the minute hand was oh so close to the 4pm mark and therefore, home time.

"You know..." Steven was talking, Brendan realised. "It's dead weird 'cause before today's lesson I was worried you were gonna be some bore or you were gonna push me but this has been good and... and I definitely wanna carry on. If that's ok..." He shot Brendan a nervous glance and Brendan smiled.

"Every Tuesday...Every Thursday..." He nodded. "I told you I would be here to help you, didn't I?"

"Yeah..." Steven looked at him and his aquamarine eyes met Brendan's and held the gaze. He smiled. "Thank you, sir. It means a lot."

Brendan didn't break gaze. "It's no problem."

A moment of silence hung between them before Steven stood up, smiling. Brendan exhaled, feeling like he had lost something and looked up at him. The boy was collecting his things and shrugging his bag over his shoulder. Next time, he would have things planned for the boy so that he could progress and get the grades he was capable of. He was going to make sure he didn't disappoint Steven, not when everything rested on these classes. He smiled up at the boy and watched as he made his way to the door and opened it before looking back at Brendan sat at his desk.

"Thank you...again..." Steven smiled hesitantly. "Not just for helping me but... for like...believing in me, if ya get me..."

Brendan nodded. "You're a bright kid."

"Ta... I just wish I could see it too... I mean, I just..." He trailed off and frowned, letting out that donkey laugh of his. "I don't know what I'm going on about, me. I think I'm just tired."

"Happens to the best of us." Brendan smiled reassuringly and saw it reflected back at him.

"Yeah. Thanks." Steven nodded and started out the door. "I'll see you later, sir."

"See ye..." He sighed to himself and watched as the door swung shut behind Steven and Brendan was alone in the classroom. That had gone better than expected.

-OXO-

Ste smiled to himself as he made his way down the Geography corridor and out of school. His first session with Brady had gone so much better than he had first anticipated and he was started to realise that they weren't just 'detentions' or whatever, they were actually helpful. For the first time in God knows how long, he had his homework done before the due date and he didn't even get Doug or Amy's help. They were starting to use it against him and Ste hated that, no matter how jokingly it was. He shivered and cursed the weather for punishing them with yet more rain and pulled his blazer tight around him as he walked, looking down at the floor in order to avoid the rain streaking his face. He yawned and headed towards his bus stop, not noticing the pair of feet stood a few metres away from him before it was too late. He looked up and frowned at John Paul's lanky figure scowling at him and tried to walk on. John Paul stopped him.

"What are you doing still in school so late, Hay?" John Paul asked invasively. "You don't even have to answer that. I bet I can guess... another detention? That's usually what it is for a fuck up like you."

"Get lost, John Paul..." He tried to walk on but he was stopped again. John Paul was little more than a pest in Ste's life. He was a rude, obnoxious 11th Year and he had this overwhelming grudge against Ste no matter what. It was a stupid reason, too and one that Ste regretted. His little sister was Michaela McQueen and aside from the 'constantly leading her astray' reason that he admitted was part of the grudge, he had also fooled around with her at a party when they were both under the influence of alcohol and John Paul had never been able to let it go. He had this idea that his perfect, sweet little sister didn't have it in her to behave recklessly and it must have been nothing more than pressure from Ste that had lead her to foolish actions. Both Ste and Michaela knew differently and had told John Paul on numerous occasions but he _chose _not to listen, wanting a reason to try and make Ste's life hell.

"Michaela was in detention yesterday. Something to do with you?"

"Right, how many times do I have to tell you, I'm not interested in your stupid little..." He began.

"What did you just call my sister?" He scoffed, moving closer to Ste. "She's not stupid. She's got ten times your IQ in _one_ of her brain cells."

"Good for her..." Ste sighed, disinterested. John Paul wasn't the problem, he never was. He was just a coward who had nothing more than harsh words to dish out at Ste. It was John Paul's friends that Ste was always cautious of because, unlike John Paul, they weren't prefects and had no reputation to live up to. They were free to do whatever they wanted and that usually meant whatever John Paul wanted. They would make Ste's life hell if he wasn't careful.

"If you call my sister stupid again, I swear to God..." John Paul began a threat and Ste laughed.

"What?" He was in a good mood today, probably due to the lesson he had just received but he was in no mood to argue or cower from idiots like McQueen. "Right, here's a bit of truth for you, McQueen. Your sister and me... we aren't even that close. Amy and Doug are me mates and Michaela and me only talk a bit if we have lessons together. She's got her own friends and she's a right gobby cow. Any detention she gets is 'cause she doesn't know how to keep her big mouth shut... not because of me. Can I go now?"

John Paul's gaze flared angrily and he scowled down at Ste judgementally. "You don't get away with slating my family like that..."

"Yeah, since your family is so respectable... Isn't your sister Mercy in the loony bin for stabbing herself?" Ste laughed mockingly, despite knowing deep down that he was making a huge mistake. He could deal with the consequences later. For now, it was fun to watch John Paul blush shamefully.

"I swear to fucking God, ratbag, you'll regret it." John Paul snorted and Ste grinned, pushing past the senior and walking on.

"I look forward to it." He turned and blew John Paul a kiss, elated from his confidence and his fight. He felt on top of the world today. "Bye, bye, McQueen."

"Fuck you."

Ste laughed to himself and walked out of the gates, coming to a halt by his bus stop. There was something about today that had uplifted him and he knew that Brady's lesson had a greater effect on him than he liked to admit. He felt like he was clever enough or confident enough to take on anything and for the first time in a long while, he didn't feel too worried about going home to his parents. They would give him hell but he knew he was in a cycle that was _breakable _now. If he got good grades and a place at college he could get a good career and wouldn't have to worry about his parents or money or abuse. He would be _free. _And he owed it all to Brady.

-OXO-

**A/N: Sorry again for delays! **


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: I suck. I sucksucksucksucksuck. I'm sorry. I'm taking an artistic licence and changing Ste's birthday too. I made this chapter 5,000 words to make it up to you for being late *cuddles* **

**Chapter 6**

Ste sighed and put a thick red line through yet another date on his calendar. Another day, another month, another mess. He'd been back at school for 2 weeks now and it was the first day of October but Ste was sure the new month would bring nothing but more bruises and more failure. Not only that, it was a date that Ste hated with a burning passion because it reminded him of how different he was from the others that were his age. He, unlike most people, had no desire to celebrate or make a big deal out of today. No one would remember anyway.

He grabbed his school back and snuck downstairs, hoping his mother would still be asleep on the sofa so he could avoid her. She was particularly cruel on days like this. However, much to his dismay, she was stood in the living room doorway, hair sticking this way and that way from a rough night's sleep and the bags under her eyes were prominent as ever.

"Morning." Ste spat monotonously and Pauline just watched him. "Do ya have money for the bus home?"

"I gave you money last week!" She snapped, glaring at him.

"Yeah, but I've ran out, haven't I? I need it to get home… I…" He rubbed his left arm with his right hand and shifted on the spot. He hated having to justify himself, especially to her and he avoided her stern gaze.

"I hope you know, we're fucking skint… I can't believe you." She grabbed her purse and threw a note at him which he stumbled to catch. He sighed.

"Sorry…" He looked down at it and tried to ignore the sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach for expecting anything. He forced the crumbled note into his pocket and fixed his eyes on the floor, mumbling. "You didn't remember then…"

"What was that?!" She frowned and he flinched, shaking his head to disregard what he'd said. "No, I haven't forgotten. Just… who celebrates something you wish had never fucking happened, eh?"

Ste inhaled sharply and swallowed thickly, shoving his hands into his pockets, balling them into fists that were tight enough to make his knuckles whiten and to cut his palms had his nails been any longer. He gritted his teeth and let out a bitter laugh that sounded like a snort, swinging the door open and slamming it behind him, inhaling the chill October air.

It still fucking hurt. Every time.

When he reached the school, his mood had dropped to almost rock bottom and he trudged into his form room, slouching in his seat just as his name was called in the register. He picked at his nails and the hem of his sleeve, ignoring his surroundings, trying to block out the sound of Amy and Doug chattering among themselves opposite him. They wouldn't remember either. He expected no less. Just as he started to zone out, he heard his name and he snapped out of it.

"Earth to Ste Hay…" It was Doug. "Are you with us?"

Ste forced a smile and looked up at his best friends, offering nothing more than a welcoming, fake grin. They both grinned and stared at him.

"Happy Birthday, you big idiot!" Amy laughed, almost jumping over the table to hug him tightly. He blinked and didn't hug her back. He was too shocked. No one ever wished him happy birthday. He laughed a bit and sighed happily. At least his friends had remembered. Amy pulled back and they both smiled at him, warmly, digging into their school bags for something.

"I thought you'd…" Ste trailed off.

"Forgotten?" Doug grinned. "What kinda friends do you think we are?!"

Before he could register anything, a sapphire blue wrapped present with an envelope Sellotaped to it from Amy was being pushed towards him along with a silvery envelope beside it from Doug. He grinned to himself, probably a bit too happy than he wanted to come across. Pauline and Terry never bought him anything on his birthday, it wasn't their thing. Like Pauline had said to him that morning, he was a mistake they wished had never happened so his birthday was probably just a reminder of the stain he created on their life.

"What…um… thanks, guys…" Ste mumbled, taken aback by their generosity. He had never gotten them anything for their birthday, always making the excuse that he had forgotten or he would make it up to them but he had the feeling they were aware of his lack of money.

"Well, are you going to open them or…?!" Doug urged him and Ste gave him a lopsided grin.

"What, here?!" He laughed and looked around the classroom as his friends nodded vigorously.

"Um… yeah, alright…" He pulled the present and the envelope closer to him and shifted awkwardly in his seat, glancing from one to the other.

"Do mine first!" Amy cried excitedly, pushing the parcel towards him. "Go on!"

He laughed and pulled the envelope off and opened that, revealing a cute birthday card with a message he couldn't quite understand written inside. He began tearing at the paper, the excitement of actually having and opening presents getting the better of him. The paper gave way to reveal a small box of aftershave. Calvin Klein, if he read correctly. He grinned and opened it, smelling it. It smelt expensive, way beyond anything he would usually be able to afford. He put some of it on and laughed a bit, glancing at his blonde friend.

"Are ya trying to say I smell, Ames?" He looked insulted and she frowned, the colour draining from her face.

"Oh god! No! I was just… Are you offended, please don't be offen…" She trailed off when she saw Ste's grin and scowled, throwing her notepad at him. "Don't do that!"

He laughed and dodged it, smiling brightly. He thanked her for the present and admired it again, spraying some of it on himself, before shoving it into his school bag. He turned to the silvery envelope with his name scribbled on it that sat on his desk and realised that it wasn't big enough to hold a new pair of trainers. He hoped. He opened the envelope and glanced at the card before opening it, jumping a little when something fell out of it. He looked down at where they had fallen and saw three small pieces of paper sitting in front of him. He picked them up and studied them, taking a moment to realise what they were due to the writing but then it dawned on him. They were tickets, three of them, to where he wasn't sure.

"Wh…" He blinked and looked up at Doug. "What is it?"

Doug grinned and rolled his eyes. "They're tickets to this theme park up in Blackpool… it's not too long by car, my mom said she'd drive us… They're not for a few weeks though because…well, gate prices were cheaper for then…"

"Us…" Ste repeated and smiled, looking down at the tickets. "Hey, who said I was taking you two?!"

They laughed and then Ste smiled and reached over to hug his friends tightly, thanking them for the amazing gestures. He was sure that both had spent far too much money on him but Amy had a part time job and Doug's parents were pretty rich so he was sure it wasn't going to make a dent in their pockets. He'd never even dream of having that kind of money. He loved his friends. With his mood highly uplifted, they grabbed their bags and headed out to their lessons. He had Geography today, if he remembered correctly. At least that wasn't so bad.

-OXO-

"Daddy! Mummy!"

Brendan groaned, snapping out of his sleep. His alarm clock blinked at him. 5:17. A fucking joke. He sat up, his hair a mess and yawned. He had to admit, he'd been lucky enough to be granted with 2 hours of sleep without interruption tonight but apart from that, Declan's illness had been keeping them both awake. He was getting sick of it. No pun intended.

"Ugh…you go, Brendan…" Eileen mumbled sleepily and pulled the covers around her.

Brendan frowned and glanced at his sleeping wife, pulling himself out of bed and padding down the hallway towards Declan's bedroom. He gently walked in, trying not to wake Paddy in the next room – though he probably already woke up – and approached Declan's bed, sighing as he heard his son sniffling in the dark. He switched the lamp on and sat on the edge of Declan's bed, stroking his sweat slick brow.

"Daddy… I can't sleep…" He whined, whimpering softly and shuffling out of the covers.

Brendan pulled Declan onto his lap and cradled him softly, stroking his hair. He was hot in Brendan's arms yet shivering and trembling. He tried to be sympathetic and held his sick son but it was hard when he was so tired himself and needed to sleep in order to get to work effectively. The doctors had stuck Declan on routine antibiotics but they weren't doing much good. Sure, Declan wasn't being sick much anymore but the restlessness and the hot and cold flushes were just as prominent as ever. He'd ranted about them to Cheryl and Eileen numerous times and he was set on taking his son to the doctors again soon. This couldn't go on. It was damaging _his _health too.

"Shhh… it's okay, Deccy…" He soothed, "Daddy's got ye…"

Declan whimpered in reply, clinging onto Brendan's t-shirt, breathing softly against his chest, sniffling with every breath he took. Brendan sat with him for around 15 minutes before he heard the whimpers and sniffles stop, replaced by calm, innocent breathing. He exhaled softly and gently put his son back on the bed, kissing his forehead and leaving the lamp on. He watched his son sleep for a while and smiled. He loved his children so much. He could never imagine harming them. He could never ever imagine watching them hurt or suffer. He sighed and frowned, closing his eyes to rid himself of negative thoughts. He never did understand how… He shook his head and headed back to the bedroom he shared with his wife, passing Padraig's bedroom as he did so, stopping in his tracks at the sound of a voice.

"Daddy?"

Paddy was awake. Fuck. He opened the door and blinked, not expecting to see his son stood on the other side of the door, blanket in his arms, frowning in the slight green glow that came from his nightlight on the wall. He sighed and crouched to his son's level, ruffling his hair slightly. Paddy pouted and looked defiant, much to Brendan's amusement.

"What's wrong, little man?"

"I woke up." Paddy replied bluntly, trying to chew on the corner of his blanket but failing due to Brendan moving his hand away. "I want… story."

Brendan smiled to himself and laughed softly. No rest for the wicked, it seemed. He smiled and obliged, heading into his youngest son's bedroom and turning the lamp on, grabbing Paddy's favourite book that told the story of a knight and a dragon. He read the story and watched his son drift off to sleep, the rising sun gently seeping into the room through the 'spaceman' pattern blinds, sending slight dusty rays across the blue carpet. He gently placed the book down and headed back into the bedroom, realising he had only 18 minutes before he was to get up and get ready for work. So with that, he rolled his eyes, shrugged his dressing gown on and trudged to the en suite bathroom, flicking the shower on.

He showered, got dressed, did his hair, shaved, changed his mind and did his hair _again _all in the space of about 50 minutes, meaning by half 6 he was sat down and ready to eat. He sighed to himself, resisting the urge to run a hand through his now perfect hair and cursed himself for caring about his appearance. It was so _feminine _to do so. He shoved his last piece of toast into his mouth and wiped the crumbs off his moustache, feeling a pair of warm arms snake around his neck from behind.

"Morning, Bren…" Eileen whispered softly, gently kissing his cheek and sitting down at the table. She yawned and ran a hand through her hair, looking exhausted. "We need to get Deccy sorted out… it's messing us up…"

"I can take him to the doctor's tomorrow if ye want…" He offered, standing up and shrugging his suit jacket on. "I've a meeting after work today but I'm free tomorrow."

"Okay…" She smiled at him and he kissed her forehead, moving his lips to hers when she tilted her head back slightly. They broke the kiss and he walked to the hallway, grabbing his briefcase and his car keys.

"I love ye!" He called back to the kitchen and sighed to himself, glancing at his reflection, the enthusiasm in his voice not reflecting on his expression. He exhaled heavily and fixed his hair slightly before opening the door and stepping out, closing it behind him.

-OXO-

Ste wasn't really having a bad birthday, he realised and smiled to himself as he reached over to steal some of Amy's butter in home economics. They were making a lasagne dish today and Ste had resorted to doing what he did every week – stealing his friend's ingredients. He'd made the excuse that he was too lazy to buy them and he had sort of forgotten but he knew that he was bleeding that lie dry and they weren't going to believe him for much longer. He frowned at the ingredient list and recipe in front of him and realised it didn't make much sense to him so with that, he screwed it up and threw it over his shoulder, deciding he was going to follow his creativity. This wasn't going to go well but he didn't care.

He worked hard for the next 30 minutes or so, wandering the classroom in search of things that _looked _like they would make a good part of his dish and began making his lasagne, his tongue poking out in concentration and his brow ever so slightly sweat slick. Amy and Doug made a few attempts to talk to him but when they were granted with barely a reply they began giving up and chatting among themselves. When Ste was nearly done, he felt someone standing behind him watching him, glancing back to see Mr. Hutchingson walking away. He frowned and looked at his friends.

"Wh…Was he watching me!?" He scowled and his friends laughed slightly, nodding.

"Yeah, he's had his eyes on you all lesson, Ste…" Doug shrugged, wiping his brow and accidentally smearing tomato all over his face. "You _have _been acting really weird, dude…"

Ste couldn't do anything but laugh at his American friend who pouted, almost insulted.

"What's so funny?!" He snapped playfully.

Ste grinned. "You've got juice all over your face…"

"You should've left it and watched him leave the class with it on his face!" Amy sighed and giggled. Doug flushed and rubbed his face with his apron, grimacing.

They continued to work in half silence at their station until the ovens were opened and the lasagnes were shoved inside, all of them playfully arguing over who gets what shelf in the oven. They finally decided and closed the appliance, moving to wash up their equipment as they laughed and flicked each other with bubbles and suds. They were drenched more than the dishes were by the time the lasagnes were ready but none of them particularly cared. The people they were sharing a station with especially Josh, however, did care and they scowled at the three friends as they were forced to finish the washing up.

Ste took his lasagne from the oven and inspected it. It sure smelt amazing but Ste didn't exactly have a very refined palette. It didn't look too bad either he decided as he grinned. Doug peered over his shoulder at Ste's creation and laughed softly.

"That looks pretty good, dude..." Doug grinned and patted Ste's shoulder. "Mine burnt and smells a bit like bread… I don't think it should…"

"What did you do to it?!" Ste laughed and pushed Doug away, smiling at what he'd made.

Mr. Hutchingson walked over and Ste cursed himself as he watched the far-too-jolly teacher bend down and pick up a scrunched up piece of paper that lay in the middle of their station. He was screwed.

"Ste, is this your recipe sheet?" Hutchingson asked, raising his eyebrows.

Ste shifted from one foot to the other, realising he wasn't going to get out of this. He picked at his fingernails and sighed. Hutchingson will probably think he was some layabout failure like everyone else thought. He'll think Ste isn't trying and is just giving up before he'd even begun when the truth was he could hardly read the recipe sheet and found it far easier to discard it and go off his own common sense. But his Home Ecc teacher wasn't going to see it like that.

"Yes, Sir… It wasn't really helpful so…" Ste cleared his throat and Amy and Doug watched cautiously.

"So you made that without the recipe?" He raised his eyebrows and studied his student intently who offered him nothing more than a small nod. "Alright. Let me try it."

"Are you kidding?" Ste frowned and realised how hostile he was coming across. "Um… I mean… really, sir?"

"Yes, Ste." He moved past Ste and grabbed a fork, taking a mouthful of Ste's lasagne and pausing. Ste watched with bated breath and bit his lip, fearing the worst. Amy and Doug watched on in shock.

"S…sorry…" Ste whispered meekly, realising what a massive mistake he'd made. He wouldn't do that again, he should've known by now that he wasn't smart enough to work independently.

"No… it's…" Hutchingson swallowed and then smiled brightly. "Ste, this is really good! Where did you learn to cook like that?!"

"I d… um…" Ste frowned and studied Hutchingson's reaction cautiously, fearful that he was mocking Ste. "Really?"

"This is really good!" Hutchingso smiled at him. "I'm impressed."

"Thanks, Sir…" Ste blinked numbly as his teacher walked away and then Amy and Doug broke into laughter.

He frowned. He wasn't used to compliments or doing well in a subject and Hutchinson had hardly noticed Ste since his first lesson when Ste decorated his fairy cakes with style and it felt good to exceed in something. He had impressed a teacher, something he never did. He was afraid his friends would think he was some sort of teacher's pet and disregard him. He didn't want them to laugh at him so he shrugged it off and played it cool.

"He's on drugs or something."

They played along and the three of them mocked Hutchinson for a while, despite Ste's relief at finally doing well in class. He felt bad, belittling a teacher who had praised him but he didn't have a choice if he wanted to keep his reputation.

When school finished and the bell rang, Ste lingered by his locker a while, hoping he would be able to wait long enough to avoid John Paul and his friends since he had been lucky enough to avoid him this past week or so. He knew that John Paul had something planned to get Ste back for humiliating him and badmouthing his family and he'd rather not find out what it was. Every night (except Tuesday's and Thursday's) he would stay by his locker or go to the restroom or find _some _distraction that meant he could leave the school gates a little while after the rush of students had dissipated. That way, he could be sure that the gang had gone home and caught their bus. It did also, however, give him the chance to be on his own and think before he had to go home and any time away from his mother and her psychotic boyfriend was good time. He was becoming pathetic, he realised. He pushed himself off the lockers and headed down the corridor, jumping slightly when he heard a voice behind him.

"Ye did good in class today, Steven."

A smooth, irish, dominant and yet friendly tone filled the corridor. There was only one person Ste knew with a voice like that. Mr. Brady. He shivered and felt a rush of something; he wasn't sure what, down his spine. Nerves from the shock he suspected. He swallowed thickly and spun around to face his Geography teacher. Brady was stood in the doorway, leaning on the doorframe. His suit jacket was open and he looked as if he was winding down from his day's work. He looked tired, Ste spotted and he almost overstepped the mark and asked but managed to stop his slip of tongue.

"Thanks…" Ste shrugged. "The mapwork stuff is still really confusing me."

"We can go over it tomorrow after school if ye like." Brady offered, raising his eyebrows.

After-school classes had become a mixture of tutoring now. While Brady was helping Ste with his reading and writing and general literacy skills they also set aside 20 minutes to run over Geographical things that Ste was struggling with just so he was slightly ahead of the class, which he needed in all honestly. It had surprised Ste how helpful the classes had been and how swiftly he'd noticed the change. Homework didn't seem so hard for English anymore and things were more legible than they ever had been. Not only that, but he didn't feel like they were a chore or punishment. In fact, the two of them worked _well _together in class and Ste felt at ease admitting things he didn't understand or trying his hardest to make sense of something that he wouldn't usually dare to attempt. Brady was definitely a positive learning force in Ste's life and he was grateful for it.

He blinked and realised Brady's eyes were boring into him. He hadn't replied.

"Oh…um…" He tried to recall what the question was and racked his brain, flushing crimson under Brady's steady gaze. He felt his heart hammering in his chest as the Irishman watched him expectantly and he swallowed thickly, his words stuck in his throat.

"Steven?"

"Yeah…sorry…that would be great…" he managed to force his words out and then laughed shyly, collecting himself and blinking. "I'm gonna miss my bus, sorry… Bye, Sir…"

And with that he rushed down the corridor and out of the double doors that lead to the courtyard. That was weird. Actually, weird was an understatement. He'd completely freaked in front of Mr. Brady and his whole body had done some weird reaction like he was gonna panic or scream. That had never happened to him before and he wasn't sure why it was happening to him now. Surely at 15 years old he should know how to control his own fucking emotions. He pulled his gaze away from his scuffed trainers and looked up to see his bus pulling up to the stop. He cursed himself and started running, only to feel a rough pair of hands grabbing the back of his blazer.

"I've heard someone needs to teach you a lesson, Hay."

Fuck.

-OXO-

Brendan frowned as Steven hurried down the corridor away from him. That was really weird. Steven had panicked and stuttered before rushing off without reason and Brendan could do little else but laugh to himself. It was sweet, he guessed, that the boy got embarrassed when he lost his trail of thought but he figured it was typical teenage stuff. He was always losing his trail of thought when he was younger. Couldn't remember if he was going this way or that way, couldn't string a sentence together sometimes. Sure, he knew why now that he looked back but when he was younger it was nothing more than an embarrassment and he had always tried to block out thoughts of _home _and what was waiting. He never dared to admit back then how badly affected he was.

He sighed to himself at the memories that stung his mind and pushed them away. He had lied to his wife this morning. Pretended he had some kind of meeting so he didn't have to go home as soon as he finished. Home was becoming less and less like a comfort and more of a chore with each passing day. It was becoming harder to lie to her and himself about his true feelings and the secrets were beginning to build up. He had kept far too many affairs away from her and made up far too many excuses for why he was home late or why he wasn't in the mood to have sex that evening. That was something else that was becoming more and more like a chore. The sex. Brendan had to admit, it had always been something he had never found pleasure in, not with Eileen anyway. It was mediocre and didn't really exhilarate him. But when he thought about the blonde who he had seduced in the coffee shop or the skinny brown in the first year of University when he was in his senior, it made his blood run. It got to him. And that made him sting with guilt and embarrassment. He knew it was wrong. Of course it was wrong.

He picked up his fifth mug of coffee that day and strolled down the corridor with it, deciding a breath of fresh air and a change of scenery would do well for his buzzing mind. He stepped out into the cold October afternoon and cradled his mug, relishing in the slight warmth it gave to his body. He exhaled, his breath showing as a white haze in the sky that was painted orange by the already setting sun. The days were getting shorter and colder – things that Brendan despised about winter. While the dark served as perfect conditions for thinking and relishing in one's own company, the cold was something Brendan wasn't particularly fond of. He hated the whole commercial idea behind winter. He hated the whole "cuddle to keep warm, share body heat, turn on a fire and roast marshmellows, exchange gifts and drink cocoa" kind of idea that came with winter. It was all too… intimate for his liking.

He heard a yelp coming from the courtyard and frowned to himself, surprised by the fact that students were still hanging around on the school grounds. He walked to the courtyard, sipping his coffee as he did so and then dropped his mug, surprised at what he saw in front of him.

What he witnessed was three students in the centre of the courtyard. Two of them (one was definitely Gaz from his year 11 class but he couldn't work the other one out) were stood up and the third was on the floor, huddled. Brendan shouted over at them and the two students snapped their heads round to see him and rushed off, fleeing across the courtyard and out of the school grounds. Brendan ran over, leaving the smashed mug behind. The closer he got, the more the shock hit him.

He knew this student.

He knew him well in fact.

"Steven!" He crouched down at the huddled boy's side and studied him. "Are ye okay? Are you hurt?"

Steven sniffled and unwrapped himself from his arms, looking up at Brendan, his face painted in blood from his nose and lip. They had beaten him. Brendan felt sick and angry and…fuck, he was so angry. He looked over to where the boys had fled, hoping they would be in sight so he could follow them, make them pay because no one, and he meant _no one _would get away with… and then he remembered his place. He was a teacher and he would get fired if he even bothered trying. He exhaled heavily and checked Steven for deeper injuries, making sure the boy was safe to stand.

"Is it just your face?" He asked softly and Steven nodded.

"My ribs…a bit… but they're… they're ok…" He sniffled and stifled a sob. Brendan soothed him and gently pulled Steven to his feet, wrapping an arm around him to hold him upright.

"You're okay… they're gone." Brendan offered comfort and Steven nodded. "That was Gaz Bennett, right? Who was the other one?"

"He doesn't go to this school…" Steven looked at Brendan, fear obvious in his eyes. "Please, Mr. Brady… you can't… you can't tell anyone. I don't want them to know."

"I have to take you to the school nurse…" Brendan sighed. He knew Steven was stubborn and he couldn't force Steven to report it, it wasn't his place. He respected Steven's opinions but he knew full well the school nurse would ask what happened and they would have to spill or else she could easily suspect that Brendan himself caused the bruises.

"No!" Steven pulled away and limped slightly. "She'll ask… you can't…" He tried to go off on his own but stumbled and Brendan grabbed him, holding him steady.

"Okay… let's get you cleaned up in my classroom and we can see how bad the damage is, okay…?" He spoke cautiously, hoping not to rile Steven any more than he already had. The boy nodded vigorously and wiped his tears, wincing as he rubbed the salt water into his cuts and smeared the blood. He let out a sob and Brendan didn't hesitate, pulling Steven into a hug, not caring that it was a little past his rights as a teacher.

Steven was hurt and Brendan was going to make sure he was okay. For now, the rules didn't matter.

-OXO-


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N: This chapter is entirely in Ste's POV. I wanted to get this chapter out quick so I haven't proof-read it. Sorry.**

**Chapter 7**

Everything had happened so quickly, Ste had hardly taken it in. He'd been grabbed by Gaz and John Paul's other friend that had already graduated high school. He didn't remember much except them beating him and stealing something. It wasn't anything he hadn't been through before, after all, Terry gave him a good beating quite often but there was something unknown about this time. Terry always stopped… eventually. But he wasn't sure if they were actually going to stop. He heard a voice shouting and suddenly the boys were gone, running and then a pair of arm were around him, helping him. Mr Brady. He'd never been more grateful for the older man's presence than he was now. He'd saved him. He'd fucking saved him.

"Is it just your face?" He heard Brady's voice and untangled himself from the ball he had curled up into. He nodded numbly, hardly noticing the dull throbbing in his ribs. His face was a mess, he could feel that. He blinked and looked over at Brady, finding comfort in his calm and warm expression.

"My ribs…a bit… but they're… they're ok…" He choked, holding back tears. He didn't want to break down and become some snivelling mess; he didn't want anyone to see him like that and certainly not Brady. He felt Brady's arms around him and he was on his feet, leaning on the Irishman for support. He blinked, hardly able to take in what was happening.

"You're okay… they're gone." Brady soothed and Ste blinked, snapping into it. He was injured, presumably not too badly or else he'd be passed out and he was trembling, he noticed, in Mr. Brady's arms. He swallowed and ignored the beat of his heart pulsing in his ears and exhaled, snapping back into reality once again at Brady's voice. "That was Gaz Bennett, right? Who was the other one?"

He swallowed nervously with realisation that now he had been caught by a teacher, he had no way of getting out of this one. He felt himself fill with fear and nearly laughed at himself for being so pathetic. He glanced at the older man, hoping that he had mastered his expression to contain just enough fear that he looked pleading but not like some kind of wimp.

"He doesn't go to this school." He told Brady, honestly. "Please, Mr. Brady… you can't tell anyone. I don't want them to know."

He and Mr. Brady got on well and he knew that if he tried, he could convince Brady not to go to any other teachers or at least he hoped he wouldn't.

"I have to take you to the school nurse."

Fear ran through his body like electricity.

"No!" He tried to walk on his own, ignoring the stabbing pain in his ribs. "She'll ask! You can't…"

He continued to walk, hoping his attempt at independence would be enough to sway Brady for now. He felt Brady's arms around him, holding him steady again and relaxed, thankful that he was not left to deal with this alone again. He tried to ignore the tears that ran tracks down his cheeks, viciously stinging any cut they came upon.

"Okay… let's get you cleaned up in my classroom and we can see how bad the damage is, okay…?"

He nodded back at the Irishman and wiped away his tears. He blinked, shocked, as he felt a pair of strong arms wrap around him and pull him into a comforting hug. He swallowed and felt jolts run through his body like lightning. They were hugging. They broke away and smiled, walking. He was grateful that Brady was willing to help without taking him to the school nurse. He hoped that he cleaned up well and looked mildly hurt because then it meant that Brady wouldn't have to worry enough to take him to the School Nurse or alert his parents. He could imagine Terry's laughter and Pauline's fury at the fact they had been contacted by the school. They would mock him and belittle him and tell him what a burden he was before, no doubt, adding to his bruises. They'd panic that social services would get involved and they could end up in trouble and Terry could end up in prison again. That was the last thing they needed.

He was helped into Brady's chair in the classroom and was left alone for a moment while he went to get something. He gazed blearily around the mundane classroom with its lifeless grey scale walls scattered here and there with classwork and maps. He could hardly believe a man of such vivid personality would have a classroom so devoid of life. He and Brady had spent a fair bit of time together over the past few weeks, with their usual timetabled lessons, afterschool tuitions and then the odd lunchtime meet up if Brady wasn't busy and Ste _desperately _needed help with a piece of homework that was due in the following period. He'd developed a…connection with Brady, to put it bluntly and the two of them, though different in both power and ages, got along well. Ste was familiar with Brady's personality and sense of humour by now and he… Ste stopped his trail of thought. Where was he going with this again? He cleared his throat and tried to clear his head of all these thoughts of the Irishman, wiping away some of the blood with the sleeve of his blazer.

"Here…" Ste heard Brady's voice before he saw him. The older man immerged from his cupboard on the other side of the classroom with a first aid box and headed over to Ste. He placed the box on the desk and pulled up a less comfortable chair than the one Ste was currently situated on.

"Do ya know how to use one of those things…?" Ste asked, warily, indicating the small box that had been placed on the woodwork. Brady gave him a small smile and edged closer, taking out some kind of wipe.

"Yes…" Brady replied, amused. "I've had first aid training, you know…"

Ste smiled back, not doubting Brady's word and suddenly flinched, sucking breath in through his teeth as he felt something wet and stinging running across his face. He saw Brady's hand holding the wipe gently dabbing his face and he pulled away, instinctively slapping his hand away.

"Shit!" Ste cursed without thought. "That hurts…"

"Yeah, it'll sting… stop being a baby." He gave Ste his trademark grin and dabbed away at the cuts again. Ste watched Brady, trying to blot out the pain, feeling his eyes water with the stinging pain on his face. He saw Brady's hand retract and the wipe in it was dyed crimson with blood. His blood. It made him feel nauseous. He swallowed thickly and pulled away, bringing his hand up to wipe away the tears that had automatically formed in his eyes.

"No… don't." Brady stopped him, grabbing his wrist gently. "Just wait until I'm done."

Ste nodded and moved his hand back to his lap, fiddling with his fingers, picking nervously at his nails, trying to ignore the ever so fast beat of his heart in his chest. He didn't know why… in fact, he did. It was probably nerves of course. But nevertheless, it was there, the blood was rushing through his ears and he was sure (if it wasn't for the leftover tinge of blood and the scars) he would be red from blushing. It was getting ridiculous this unknown effect that Brady had on him. He didn't know what it was and therefore it was becoming unbelievably hard to conquer.

He swallowed thickly, watching Brady as he picked up something else, dabbing the residual wetness away on Ste's skin and cleaning up the cuts so they were mere scratches and scars as opposed to bleeding wounds and Ste smiled. The stinging pain had waned and only a small dull ache that Ste was more than used to was left behind. Brady smiled at him and Ste swallowed thickly as Brady's hands slowed down. He was sure he was cleaned up by now… He stopped playing with his hands and looked up at the older man, surprised to see that he was being watched intently. He grinned sheepishly and Brady pulled his hand away, closing the first aid box and sitting back in his chair. Ste wasn't sure why Brady had stopped so abruptly but he didn't care too much. As long as he was cleaned up.

"How do you feel, Steven?" Brady asked after a moment, folding his arms.

Ste hesitated, evaluating the question. In terms of pain, he wasn't hurting too much – he was more than used to being beaten and the antiseptic care had helped to numb the pain for the time being. He didn't feel greatly injured and he was sure the throbbing in his ribs would go away after a few nights worth of sleep. In terms of emotions, he felt… shaken up was probably a good way to describe it but there was no way he was replying with that. He had, of course, had a few punches in his lifetime but all of them were expected. He'd never been attacked by s_urprise _from behind like he was this afternoon. It was terrifying. Nevertheless, Brady had 'saved the day' so to speak, and Ste was grateful. He did not feel like he was in harm's way anymore. Brady sure as hell wouldn't let anyone walk into his classroom and do as they feel. Besides, no student would be stupid enough to attack someone in front of a teacher. He felt safe here.

"Um… tired." It was the only reply that didn't give away too much, but served as a sufficient answer.

"I can imagine…" Brady nodded. "I can _relate._"

"Relate?" Ste asked, curiously, before he could stop himself. Had Brady been fighting too?

"I think I've told ye… my son is sick."

"Still?" Ste sighed and shrugged. "I'm sure he'll be okay."

"Not sure my marriage will…" Brady mumbled under his breath and Ste wasn't sure if he heard Brady right or not. Either way, he was positive he wasn't supposed to hear it and therefore decided to ignore it on the off chance that Brady would throw him out if he dared question Brady's marriage. He wasn't quite ready to venture to where they could be.

Ste didn't think bad relationships really happened beyond his estate. He thought fucked up marriages and long term relationships only happened to people like his mum and Terry. The people on benefits, living on council estates just _making do. _He thought that was the point. That they were making do and money made them miserable. It wasn't like Pauline and Terry could really leave each other. Pauline had said to Ste enough times when bad things had happened that she couldn't leave him. _'Where would we get money from then, eh, Ste? You either take a couple of punches or we end up on the streets. Is that what you want to happen to your poor old mum? _Her voice was clear in his head. She'd said similar things enough times. But he always thought that people in the 'rich world' like he assumed Brady was from could pick and choose who they were with and relationships worked. They had nothing to be miserable about, right? If it wasn't working, surely they could just dump each other and find someone else without ending up homeless or chased by loan sharks. Ste didn't understand what Brady meant. Was his marriage failing? For a moment, Ste hoped that it would end soon if that's what made the Irishman happy. He laughed at himself in his head. Like he cared if Brady was happy or not.

"I'll go and get you some water… I bet ye need it." Brady broke the silence, smiling at Ste and standing up. Ste nodded and looked up at the older man towering above him. He swallowed and suddenly his throat was dry. The water seemed like a good idea, he decided.

Then, with a click of the classroom door, Brady was gone. Ste yawned and leant back in Brady's office chair. No wonder the teachers hardly moved from their desks when their chairs were so damn comfortable. He glanced over at the silver clock hanging on the wall and watched as the hands ticked around monotonously. It was nearing half 4. He had missed his bus home. He reached into his blazer pocket and frowned. The crumbled note that he had forced in there that morning from his mother had gone. He laughed in disbelief to himself and frantically searched his pockets. He had lost it, or he had been robbed. Either way, he had no way of getting home and Pauline was going to kill him. Fuck that, _Terry was going to kill him. _He felt his skin prickle hotly with fear and felt his ears redden as he sunk down into the chair. He was fucked.

With that the door clicked open and Ste glanced up, surprised by the fact that he was not met by Brady. Instead, an older, greying man in a battered tweed suit leant in the doorway. Ste knew him well. Almost too well from the amount of times he had been sent to the head teacher's office. Mr. Seamus Brady. At least that was how he signed all of the letters he sent home to tell Ste's parents about his _disgusting _behaviour. He'd usually managed to throw them away before Terry saw them though.

"Ah, Steven…" The head frowned at him and glanced inside, surveying the room. His voice was Irish just like Brady's but it was deeper and gruffer. Not as friendly. Ste didn't _like _the way that he spoke. Not like he particularly liked Brady's, of course… "Is Brendan… ahem… Mr. Brady here?"

"No." Ste replied bluntly and then frowned, realising he was talking to the head teacher. "Um… he went to get some water, I think."

Brendan. So that was his name. That was his teacher's name. He smiled to himself at the knowledge and decided it suited him. _Brendan Brady. _

"Ah…" Seamus nodded and looked at Ste, taking him in for the first time. "What are _ye _doing here?"

"Um… detention, sir." Ste sighed, hoping his lies paid off and the cuts on his face weren't too obvious from Seamus' distance.

The head frowned, his eyes fixed squarely on Ste. He swallowed and watched as he approached him, bringing with him a scent of mould and tobacco that Ste so desperately wanted to avoid. It was gross. Ste shifted and played with the edge of his blazer sleeve. He looked up at the old man towering above him and felt so very uncomfortable compared to just a moment ago when Brady – when _Brendan –_ stood above him in the same place.

"Ye look comfortable in this seat for a boy in detention." Seamus pointed out and Ste mentally cursed himself, realising how fucking relaxed he looked in Brendan's seat of all seats. He didn't want to get Brendan in any trouble.

"I was just about to write out lines, Sir." Ste tried to make some half-arsed excuse and smiled politely up at his head teacher.

"I'm sure Brendan will find some _punishment _for you…" Seamus mumbled under his breath but Ste didn't catch what he said.

"What?" Ste asked, rudely, forgetting his manners.

"Nothing." Seamus shrugged and peered down at Ste. Ste chewed his lip and felt too similar to a little child in the older man's stare. "What happened to your face, boy?"

"Wha..?" Ste began and then remembered, frowning. He reached a hand up to touch the cut on his cheekbone, trying to quickly come up with some reply. He was stopped by a third voice, Irish and familiar, from behind Seamus. Ste exhaled in relief.

"D…ahem… What are ye doing here?" Brendan's tone was cold and suspicious. He watched as the old man turned on his heel and faced Brady. He leaned to the side so he could watch both men from behind Seamus and saw Brady exhale heavily, his knuckles whitening around the mug he was holding. Ste hadn't seen Brendan look at someone like that before.

"I was merely checking up on _my _students." Seamus replied, an undertone to his voice that Ste couldn't quite work out.

"…your students…" Brendan scoffed after a moment, clearing his throat like it was as dry as Ste's felt earlier. Saying Ste was curious about the two of them would be an understatement.

"Yes. This is my school, Br… Mr. Brady. Don't ye forget it." Seamus told Brady, laughter in his voice. He approached Brendan and Ste saw the younger man take a step back, keeping his distance from the head teacher. That was odd.

"Of course not. Did you want something?" Brendan asked coldly.

"It can wait." Seamus shook his head. The door clicked shut and the head teacher was gone. There was a moment of silence in which Brendan exhaled and straightened the lapels of his suit before the mug of water was placed in front of Ste on the desk.

"They… um…" Brendan cleared his throat, finding composure from somewhere. "They didn't have any cups in the canteen so I had to… I mean, you don't mind a mug, right?"

"No… I don't care…" Ste smiled and took a sip from the mug, hesitating. He considered his next words very carefully and decided, stupidly, on; "Sir, is the head teacher your dad?"

"What?!" Brendan blinked, clearly taken aback by such a forward question.

"I just thought… 'cause… your names and accents…" Ste shrugged, pulling his legs up to his chest in the chair and cradling his mug, peering over his knees at the Irishman.

"Yes. Mr. Brady is my father." Brendan nodded, admitting after a moment. Ste nodded and mulled over this for a few seconds, sipping the water.

"Oh." Ste put the mug down. "Sir?"

"Yes, Steven?" Brendan looked at Ste and Ste couldn't help but look down.

"I think they… um…" He hesitated. "The boys, I mean. I think they stole my bus money."

Ste mentally cursed himself, realising he probably just made himself sound so poor. He hoped that he could get away with making it seem like it was the only money he had on him and therefore it was the only money he had to get home for _today._ He didn't want Brendan to realise he was some council rat that couldn't afford other bus fare apart from the money Pauline had given him that morning.

"Oh." Brendan sighed. "Do ye have any other way of getting home?"

"No." Ste told him honestly.

"I'm not really allowed to…" Brendan looked as if he was deep in consideration and the next thing Ste knew, Brendan was fishing into his wallet and then a note sat on the desk in front of Ste. He blinked and stared at it, so unsure of how the older man had so carelessly given money away as if it were nothing. Surely he couldn't take it. It was a mere gesture of kindness, that was all, not an actual offer…

"Oh, thank you, but I can't… I shouldn't." Ste smiled bashfully and pushed the note away, blushing. He really _really _needed that money but…

"No, take it. Don't worry about paying me back. What's a bit of my wages compared to your pocket money, eh? I want you to get home safe. Your parents will be worrying." Brendan gave Ste an honest smile and it sparked Ste to return the smile. Brady was serious. He grabbed the note and stuffed it into his blazer, grinning.

"Thanks…" He inhaled, relieved and finished his water. He watched as Brendan glanced at the clock and saw the smile under the man's moustache fall.

"Ah, fu…" he stopped himself. "I need to go. My son… I have to take my son to the doctor. My wife is going to kill me."

Ste nodded and watched as Brendan shrugged his suit jacket back on.

"Um… sir?"

Brendan stopped and looked at Ste, surveying him. Ste didn't really know what to do next; he just wanted to thank the Irishman for being so kind to him. For saving him. But he didn't really know how. Thanking wasn't exactly his thing and it was so much easier when it was Amy and Doug because a smile or a hug or a kiss on the cheek served fitting and they would carry on as if the moment had not passed between them. It was natural. He didn't know how to thank Brendan and any way he did think almost made him flush crimson. He lowered his feet back to the floor and sat forward on his chair.

"Thank you. For helping me." Ste smiled with honesty in his eyes. "For… everything."

He leant in and his lips gently touched Brendan's cheek. His stubble was rough under Ste's lips and his skin was warm. Ste felt unexpectedly embarrassed. He felt unexpectedly warm. Like he wanted to keep his lips there for longer than he was allowed. For the first time since they had started working alongside each other, Ste could _smell_ him. He smelt of mint and aftershave and something Ste couldn't quite work out. He liked it. He wanted to smell it more. He pulled away and saw the Irishman staring at him, his ice blue eyes piercing into Ste's own aquamarine pools and Ste parted his lips. He realised, in that moment, that he had not pulled away enough for the pair to have their own personal space. They were invading one another's but it did not feel wrong. He exhaled shakily and Brendan did the same. He felt the older man's warm breath tickle his lips and his skin and the goosebumps on his arms prickled up in response.

Ste wasn't sure who moved next.

Was it him?

Or… did Brendan move?

He didn't know. But what he did know was that his lips and Brendan's were meeting. He felt the warmth across his lips and the tickle of his moustache on his upper lip. It looked rough to touch but Ste could now confirm it was soft and _tickled. _He inhaled, a warmth spreading through his whole body and pushed forwards, strengthening the pressure between both their lips. Ste felt dizzy. He felt excited. He felt warm. And for the first time in his life, he really _really _liked kissing. He felt Brendan's lips part against his and their lips rubbed together, moving slowly for a split second before Brendan pulled away as if he had been burnt. They had only been kissing for a tiny moment – probably little more than a second – but it felt like years to Ste. Like the whole world was spinning in slow motion. He exhaled heavily and opened his eyes to see Brendan stand up and wipe his lips.

"I'm sorry, Steven." He seemed flustered and angry. So angry. And it was in that moment that Ste realised he must have been the one to make the first move or else Brendan wouldn't be so angry at him, right? "That shouldn't have happened. That… I'm your teacher, for God's sake, I could get _FIRED!" _

Ste flinched and felt his stomach churn with a disappointed shame. He looked down and played with his hands, digging his nails into his palms and relishing in the pain it brought.

"S…" He choked. "S…sorry…"

He heard Brendan's breathing muffle and decided he had probably ran his hands over his face in frustration.

"These… private lessons." Brendan spoke after a moment, his breathing heavy and ragged. "They stop now. I can't. Go to LS or something. I can't help you."

Ste only looked up when he heard a whoosh of air and the door of the classroom click shut.

_Congratulations, Steven fucking Hay, _Ste thought to himself, his eyes brimming with unshed tears. _You really fucked things up this time. _

He covered his face with his hands and then got up, storming out of the classroom and making the short trip down the corridor to the boy's bathroom. He splashed his face with water and rinsed his mouth out, feeling nausea washing over him. He looked up at his reflection and saw himself for what he was. Pale and bleary eyed, covered in raw cuts and fresh purple bruises. His school uniform hung off his skinny form and his eyes, which sunk into his skull, stared back at him, lifeless and dead and so fucking full of shame. He hated himself. God, he hated himself. Why had he kissed Brendan? His teacher. His MALE teacher. Surely he wasn't gay, he wasn't. It was a mistake. Just a foolish mistake. He had thought, once or twice, when he was in bed at night, busying himself, of boys, like Callum who used to live on his estate, and had promised himself never to dwell on those memories. Because, God forbid, it would mean Terry was _right. _He was some good for nothing, pathetic, disgusting _girl. _Ste gripped the sink tightly, his stomach churning and then turned, hauled himself into the cubicle, slammed the door and retched, tears spilling down his scarred ivory cheeks.

-OXO-


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N: This is a bit of a filler chapter, but I just wanted to get something out there since it's been so long. I've been all over the place with college and haven't had time! I'm so sorry. The next chapter will be better, I promise. **

**Chapter 8**

Another day, another lesson, another no show.

Brendan sighed and checked his watch. 11:20am. It was time for his year 10 GCSE class. He winced at the thought of the students that would come filing through that door, the break time gossip and chatter dying at their lips as they entered a classroom that would sure as hell dampen there mood once they spotted the piles of textbooks at the end of each page. It was a clear sign that today's lesson would involve no discussion, no fun work, no group work and _no _creativity. Brendan wasn't a huge fan of working from textbooks but sometimes it was good if he just didn't want to bother with mindless teenagers. He exhaled. It had been two weeks since the incident that Brendan did not want to think about and since then he had been granted with five glorious lessons from the year 10 students, today being his sixth.

In each of those lessons, when the students sat down ready (or not in some cases) to work, Brendan had very subtly ran his eyes across the sea of bored youths and been met with the same disappointing result. The petite blonde girl, Amy – Brendan remembered her name since she was so damn good at her homework – was sitting beside an empty chair. Steven wasn't in class. He hadn't been in class for two weeks now and Brendan didn't expect any different from the lesson today. He wondered if Steven had told his parents and they had prevented him from attending school. He wondered if there was some undercover investigation going on that would surely lose Brendan his job. But the most plausible explanation, Brendan decided, and probably the saddest one, was that Steven was 'sick'. That he was faking illness just so he could avoid Brendan. The boy was throwing away weeks of education just so he didn't have to look Brendan in the eye.

The babble of students descended on the corridor outside Brendan's classroom and he sat up in his chair, preparing himself for the groans and grumbles of students when they realised what today's lesson would entail. The door clicked open and students poured in, not waiting for permission to enter. As per usual. He surveyed them and listened to the chatter fading away, replaced by hushed complaints about his lesson plan. They took their seats and resentfully pulled the textbooks to sit in front of them.

"Page 71 and 72. Read it and finish the questions. Anyone who isn't past question 8 by the end of the lesson can spend their lunchtime with me." He told them bluntly, sitting back in his chair, ignoring the grumbles.

He scanned his classroom and just as he had expected, Steven wasn't there. Amy was sat alone and Brendan couldn't help but sigh to himself. That chair had been empty for weeks. He paused, considering his next move very carefully and then leaned his elbows on the desk, peering at the blonde girl who was rapidly scribbling down answers.

"Amy... could you come here for a moment?" He asked, as professionally as he could.

Amy blinked and looked up, as if she had not heard him right. She looked worried and confused and there was a hushed interest from the rest of the class about whether or not Amy had landed herself in some trouble. She glanced around at all the curious eyes pinned on her and realised she had not heard Brendan wrong. He saw her concern and smiled.

"You're not in trouble; just... it'll only take a minute." He stood up; noticing people were listening far too intently and opened his classroom door.

He watched as Amy nervously stood up and smoothed her skirt down, walking as casually as she could towards Brendan's classroom door until she was stood in the corridor and the click of the door indicated that the pair of them were shut off from prying students.

"Amy..."

"Look, if this is about Michaela and her bringing c..." She began but Brendan knew to cut her off before she accidentally got her friend in trouble.

"I don't know anything about Michaela and you ought to be grateful I didn't here the end of that sentence." Brendan mildly scolded and Amy blushed strongly, the pink serving as a great contrast to her light blonde hair.

"Sorry... Is there a problem, sir?" She asked, her voice quiet as she played with her hands.

"You're friends with Steven Hay, aren't you? I see you chattering in class and walking the corridors together sometimes."

"Yes, sir." Amy nodded slowly, confusion spreading across her face.

"He's been off school for 2 weeks now and he's falling behind on his Geography work. I'm worried." He told her bluntly, hoping that his concern came across as purely professional with no hint of caring behind it.

"Oh." Amy swallowed and glanced around as if she was selling her friend out.

"Do you know what's wrong?" He asked, cautious.

"No, sir. Me and Doug - that's his other best friend - haven't heard from him all fortnight but I'd say he was sick." Amy shrugged.

"Does he get ill often?" Brendan inquired.

"No."

"Does he skip school a lot?"

"He's not skipping school!" She snapped, protecting her friend and forgetting who she was speaking to. Both she and Brendan looked alarmed. She stammered and shifted, apology bright in her eyes before it even fell from her mouth. "Sir, I'm..."

"Don't worry about it. No need to apologise. I don't expect you to sell your friend out. But if you hear anything, let me know. I'm getting concerned about his school work." Brendan told her and she nodded, exhaling. "You can go back to class."

"Thank you, Sir."

She swung the door open and carefully walked back into class. Even from this side of the door, he could hear the other students inquiring about his intentions. High School was so trivial. They were lucky. He leant against the whitewashed wall of the school corridor and ran his hands across his face. This was all his fault. When he thought about it, he knew full well that things were not as black and white as Steven attempted what he did and Brendan doing the right thing and pushing him away.

He had taken Steven under his wing more than he ever had some other student and he had surely given Steven some kind of signals. Then again, he couldn't safely 100 percent say that it was Steven who had made the first move. Brendan was almost... paranoid that it was him. Maybe it was his fault that Steven wasn't coming into school. His fault that such a bright young man was losing out on his education. He ought to call Steven's parents and tell them to encourage Steven to get better but the last thing he wanted was to spark up some suspicion that could cause his parents to realise and… and press charges. If Steven told his parents they had kissed, that he wasn't sure who made the first move, that Brendan had _kissed him back _he would be done for. He couldn't. He was stuck.

It was a mistake, surely. But he _had _kissed Steven back, no matter how brief the kiss was and he could feel it, remember it so vividly that Brendan was starting to wonder if it was a mistake. Nothing could ever happen again if Steven was to venture into his class again but it was a professional mistake. Not a personal one. Brendan had felt something that he knew for sure was not what he was supposed to feel about students. He felt… he couldn't even put a word to it. He felt _something_ when he was with Steven. Something about the way that his youthful spirit sparked something in Brendan that made work just that little bit less mundane. He had seen the bruises and the cuts and the dark eyes that Steven sported. Brendan was so used to seeing echoes of them on his own teenage face that no matter how hard Steven pretended they were bruises of his fights on the estate he lived in, Brendan knew it was more likely they were from elsewhere. It was unusual that a teenager could go through bullying or beatings or dyslexia and still come out smiling. And Steven _did. _Without fail, this boy had turned up week upon week, still smiling, still laughing and making immature jokes and casual conversation. But that was it, really. _Teenager_. Vincent was a teenager. He was 18 when he and Brendan started… well, he didn't want to go into that. But it was different this time. He wasn't allowed. He wasn't allowed by _law._

The next few classes of the day went agonisingly slow. Funny how time slows down when the mind is occupied with wonder and guilt and worry and _sickness. _All he could think about was the young lad who was throwing his life away because of him. The young lad who had, only 2 weeks ago, sat by Brendan at his desk and their warm lips had met for a brief stolen moment. He couldn't get the memory out of his head. And there was more than one reason why it made him feel sick.

-OXO-

In his defence, Ste decided as he kicked his legs out half-heartedly on the park swings, he had actually been ill for the first few days. But he wasn't sure how 'a few days' had escalated into 2 whole weeks. He had been sick _that day _and it had stuck with him for the next two days after that. Days that Pauline let him have off on the condition _he_ did everything Terry had instructed _her_ to do for the day. After that, she had got tired of having him around the house and forced him to go to school. But Ste knew too well that Pauline would never answer the phone unless it was Terry or him calling since she had so many debts and loans and just generally bad people after her. It was dangerous for her to answer the phone. So out of the house or not, Ste was definitely sure he would get away with it. He had no money, of course – when did he ever? So food was something he wasn't going to get his hands on. He had resorted to taking a couple of bags of crisps from the local off-licence when he got really hungry during the day but that was nothing in Ste's eyes.

He had been successfully skipping school and spending his days at the park for 2 weeks now. Every night he would tell himself that tomorrow would be the day but as he got ready for school the next morning and saw his clammy hands shaking as they attempted to do up his school tie, he was reminded of how badly he was shaking as he forced his legs to carry him home that night. He was reminded why Hollyoaks High didn't seem like such a friendly place anymore. The park was on the other end of his estate – near the rough part that Ste was more than used to – and it ended up becoming the perfect escapism. He would sit on the swings and listen to music until his battery died and just think for the rest of it. Some old man had suggested Ste read a book as he passed walking his dog one lunchtime and Ste had to force a strained laugh. He was never going to be able to learn how to read. Not anymore. He fucked that one up.

There was a reoccurring thought, Ste noticed as he shivered in the increasing downpour. Brendan. Or "Mr. Brady", he figured. Ste had never felt like this before. Sure, he remembered the 'heartbreak' when he had broken up with Amy or the pain of rejection when he had poorly attempted to get back with her a year later but this was something knew. This was strange and exciting and adult and scary and taboo and… and _gay. _Brendan was a man. It was incomprehensible to him that he could only just realise, 15 years into his life, that he was gay. But was he? He didn't feel like that about any other man – the thought of kissing Doug made him feel a bit nauseous – and he certainly had encountered his fair share of sexual experiences with women the past few years. But there was something about Brendan that was different from all of them. He wanted to kiss Brendan. It didn't make him feel nauseous or freaked out. It didn't even feel wrong, not when he thought about it. Sexuality wasn't a factor. It was just Brendan. It was probably a phase, Ste had decided. A side effect to the feeling of gratitude towards Brendan's noble and helpful actions. Brendan had been there for him not just in terms of education but he had saved him from Gaz and his friend. He put his bets on the fact that there was some psychological name for the thing he was feeling. _Yeah, there is. It's called attraction, Ste. _He frowned and pushed his inner voice away. He was being silly. He wasn't attracted to Brendan. _He wasn't. _

Kissing Brendan had been a mistake and one he was not prepared to make again. The feeling of sickness that washed over him when he thought about Brendan's reaction and the stupidity of his own actions was something he was not prepared to face again. Brendan was a professional man and he had to accept any apology Ste offered him, right? He had been angry, Ste knew that. Ste _saw _that but there was something niggling in his mind that told him Brendan had kissed him back. For two whole weeks he had denied it and pushed it away and blamed it on his own mind making things up from his own desires but it wouldn't go away. He ran the memory over and over in his mind and still he saw it. He felt the same thing. The push of lips on his own, the resignation, the shaky breath and the parting of the lips that all happened in that tiny, tiny moment. It was nothing but it meant everything. Was he really just making it up? He didn't know. But what he did know was that he…

"STE!" An excited voice behind him. Female. Blonde. Can you tell that from a voice? You can if you know whose it is…

A pair of petite but strong arms folded around him from behind the swings, hair brushing against his face as she cuddled him tightly. It was Amy. She jumped into sight in front of him, taking in the way he looked; wet and bedraggled in his school uniform, his bag sitting on the drenched tarmac. He gave her a sheepish grin and her face fell, adopting that oh so familiar 'concerned mother' expression. Amy would have no trouble adapting when she had children.

"Ste…" She began to scold him. "If you've been skipping school, I'll have you know th…"

She was cut off by another voice. Deeper (but hardly) and American. He glanced to his left to see his mousy brown friend climb over the park fence, too lazy to walk to the gate. Ste grinned and Doug returned it playfully.

"Hey, stranger…" Doug smiled and leant on the pillar-box red swing post, dropping his bag beside Ste's. "You come here often?"

"Are you chatting me up, Doug?" He grinned and his mood was instantly lifted by the presence of his two friends. "You need to work on your line."

"Tss, I bet it's better than anything you could do!" Doug pouted and the pair hugged before Doug turned serious. "No, but seriously, where have you been? I haven't seen you for _way _too long. There could have been a nuclear explosion or anything at school and you'd have missed it!"

"Please." Amy cut them both off, turning to Ste, seriousness clouding her face. "Ill. You said you were ill! But here we find you, full school uniform, sat shivering in the rain. You _are _going to get sick, Ste! For real! I've been so worried and you didn't… you didn't even call!"

Amy was nearly shouting now and Ste stared at her; realisation of how careless he had been washed over him. Doug swallowed and glanced between the pair. Ste didn't break eye contact with her for a moment but then he looked down, staring at his rain slick hands as they played with the hem of his blazer. He knew his friends had only ventured towards the council estate to check up on him and he felt awful for putting them in a position where they were so in the dark. He felt angry that he had let a man do that to him. He had let Brendan do that to him. He shook his head and his eyes clouded with a mixture of rain and tears. Not like either of them would notice the tears in the downpour.

"I'm sorry, I just…" He shrugged and glanced up at them.

"Did something happen to your face? Is that why?" Doug finally spoke, indicating the slightly faded bruises left from Gaz. Ste raised a hand towards his cheekbone where the most obvious cut sat and words died in his mouth. He nodded. Lying worked.

"What happened?" Amy frowned, all prickliness fading from her voice, replaced by the same smooth warm tone that he was so used to when she worried. She sat on the next swing and put her hand on his shoulder. He glanced at Doug, his deep blue eyes full of support and then at Amy and her sympathetic smile. He had amazing friends, even if he could never tell them the truth.

"It were Gaz. He… got me in the courtyard." Ste exhaled shakily.

"So you've been bunking off to avoid him and John Paul?" Doug asked cautiously and Ste forced himself to nod. Amy and Doug exchanged a glance and spoke together.

"Hit him back…"

"Go to the Head…"

They both laughed and Doug shook his head.

"Amy's right. Go to the Head or to a teacher you can trust and get it sorted. Hiding away at the park in the middle of October will get you pneumonia not your GCSEs…"

"I thought I did…" Ste mumbled and was grateful when both his friends questioned what he had said. He shook his head, taking it back and stood up, grabbing his bag.

"I have to do something. I have to… go somewhere." He nodded and glanced at them both. Amy stood up too, wiping the rain water away from her skirt, watching him cautiously.

"Where?" She asked, the concern slipping into her voice.

"No where. Well, somewhere. It doesn't matter. I'll sort it." He smiled at them both. "I'll see you in school tomorrow."

"Sch…" Doug frowned and processed it. "Do you promise?"

"I'll be there." He walked up to Doug and pulled his friend into a tight hug, laughing as Doug winced at the feeling of Ste's soaked blazer against him. "I give you my word, Doug. I don't want you two worrying about me. Not anymore."

He pulled away and glanced at them both in turn, watching their expressions turn to reluctant agreement. He was a terrible friend to them both and he could never repay them for the things they had done for him but the least he could do was to pull his act together and be a better person. For them, if no one else. He was going to overcome his fear. He would be at school tomorrow, same old Ste, for them. There was just one thing he needed to do first. So with that, he hugged both his friends and sped off, smiling to himself.

-OXO-

Tuesday's after lessons was pretty boring without the tutorial lessons he used to offer to Steven, Brendan realised at he clicked his pen monotonously. He glanced over at the window and watched it streak with lines of rain. The outside was dark and foggy. It was past 5pm and the sun had already set but it was the time of the month where the moon was hardly visible. The window gave him sight to nothing but the harsh reflection of the classroom light and the tracks of heavy rain that raced each other down to the windowsill. He exhaled and listened to the ticking of the clock, to the hammering of the rain, swirling in the wind and the soft clicking of the biro in his hand. The corridor resonated with a deafening silence that never failed to send shivers down Brendan's spine. There was always something about the stillness of a place that usually buzzed with life that unnerved Brendan. He was sure he was one of the last teachers in but the cleaners didn't come for another hour and a half meaning all the doors were unlocked and Brendan was alone in the school. It was a childish feeling, but it felt like a very threatening place.

His father had been an office worker when Brendan was a young boy and there were times when he would drag Brendan down to the office block after closing time to finish up some of his work, forcing Brendan to sit in the corner and wait for him. The offices were always eerily quiet then. The corridors used to echo with silence and the streetlight would cast shadows of objects that didn't exist. He used to hate it so much and his father never made it better. It made it worse. Times like this always reminded Brendan of the lack of escape if he were to ever end up in a threatening scenario. He had realised as a child that in a place like this, when it was so empty, no one could hear you cry or scream for help. He shivered to himself and blinked, only realising the glazed tears in his eyes when he glanced down at the essay he was marking and saw it blur in front of him. He inhaled to clear his vision and sat back, shaking away negative thoughts.

There was a knock at the door.

A knock…

Brendan frowned and glanced over at the doorway, running through the various possibilities of who could be standing on the other side of the door as he approached it. Cheryl coming to ask for drinks, Seamus coming to just be a burden on his life or Eileen coming to surprise him in the office. Cheryl and Seamus had already left and Eileen had the kids to look after. Nothing seemed plausible. He was clueless. The last thing he was expecting was the very sight he was greeted by when he swung the classroom door open and peered out.

"Br… Brendan, we need to talk."

Brendan stepped aside, shocked, and let the other man into his classroom.

-OXO-


End file.
